


you mean the world to me

by katlightage



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (mostly), Canon Compliant, Childhood, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hogwarts, Light Angst, One Word Prompts, POV Hermione Granger, POV Ron Weasley, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 50
Words: 22,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25700596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katlightage/pseuds/katlightage
Summary: Tears were swimming in her eyes, she was still wearing her stiff Ministry clothes, and her hair was already reacting to the humidity of the summer air. Ron had never seen anything more beautiful.- - -A series of short fluff one-shots based off of a list of 50 prompts
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 16
Kudos: 75





	1. beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "You Mean the World to Me" by Freya Ridings
> 
> Disclaimer: I wrote some of these before putting them in order, so there will be some references to events that happen in a one shot later on. So if you read something that didn’t happen in the books and doesn’t make sense, just keep reading. I promise it will eventually. I have notes at the beginning of the chapter if that’s the case :))

Ron was completely alone. He could feel every bone in his body aching as he lay there on the hard floor. As he drifted in and out of awareness, flames crackled around him, and the few chess pieces still intact towered above him, mocking him. He felt his eyes droop, watering from the strain of staying open, and then he couldn't feel anything at all.

He woke later, unsure of how much time had passed, to a worried face surrounded by a mane of bushy hair inches from his face. Hermione's hands were gripping his shoulders, and judging by her tight hold, she had been attempting to wake him for quite some time. When she noticed his eyes were open, she flung her arms around Ron's neck as he struggled to sit up.

"Geroff, Hermione, I'm fine," he grumbled under her tight embrace.

She apologized sheepishly and pulled him to his feet. They hurried back the way they'd come, Hermione explaining Harry's instructions for them to fetch Dumbledore along the way, although Ron wasn't fully paying attention.

He was more focused on Hermione's hand holding his, dragging him through the castle.


	2. endings

As Hermione sat at the edge of the lake under the golden glow of the sun, hot tears cascaded into her lap. It didn't feel fair. How could this day be so beautiful when Dumbledore was being permanently put to rest?

It felt like the world should be ending. The sky should be gray, the grass withered or dying, the sun tucked behind layers of thick clouds, the birds mournfully quiet. But instead, the grass was green and swaying like waves in the gentle breeze. The sun was shining, the birds were twittering cheerfully, and the sky was a bright, clear blue—just like Dumbledore's eyes.

He would've preferred a day like this, Hermione thought. He wouldn't have wanted his students to mourn him, he'd want them to celebrate him. That thought only made Hermione cry harder. She was so lost in her head that she almost forgot where she was until Ron wrapped her in his arms. She turned into his shoulder, his sweater muffling her sobs. He reached up and stroked her hair, a gesture that ordinarily would've made all the air rush out of Hermione's lungs. Now, though, she barely registered it.

She could feel Ron's chest rising and falling heavily, his breathing labored, and Hermione knew he was crying, too. She was strangely comforted by the fact that he needed her as much as she needed him.

She remembered what Dumbledore had once told Hermione and her classmates: "Happiness can be found in the darkest of places." She took solace in the fact that Dumbledore would encourage her to find something—or someone—to make her happy in these dark times, and she nestled deeper into Ron's arms.


	3. seconds

Hermione slept all day after returning from Malfoy Mansion. She was vaguely aware of Ron, Harry, Luna, and Dean checking in on her during the few times she was able to keep herself awake longer than a few minutes, and, despite Hermione's protests, Fleur was by her side whenever she wasn't taking care of the others.

By the time Harry recruited her and Ron to talk with Griphook, her body was still covered in cuts from the chandelier. She knew the deeper cut along her neck would likely never disappear completely, but she felt stronger. Mentally, at least.

Although she had enough energy to walk and brainstorm ways to break into Gringott's, she was still in enough pain that Fleur had to help her with the simplest tasks, including changing and washing. She felt helpless, but at least she wasn't confined to her bed.

"Ron seemed very reluctant to leave you," Fleur commented as she was giving Hermione a bath, running the soap over her cuts carefully so as not to sting her. She glanced slyly at Hermione from under her waterfall of white-blond hair.

"Yes, well, he's just concerned. Harry is as well," she explained, ducking her head so Fleur couldn't see her blushing.

"So there is nothing between the two of you?" Fleur prodded, though she seemed to have already made up her mind about the answer.

"We're. . . friends," Hermione replied hesitantly as if she didn't believe what she was saying.

"Friends."

Fleur didn't say anything else; she just looked at Hermione, an amused and mildly smug glint in her eyes. Hermione shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.

"We can't afford to be anything more than friends," she admitted reluctantly after a few moments. "With the war going on," she added.

"When you love each other that much, even war cannot stop the inevitable."

"Love? I never said anything ab—"

"For someone as brilliant as yourself, you really are not very observant," Fleur said with a twinkling laugh.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione asked sharply.

Fleur ignored her. "Get up, let us get you changed."

Hermione's eyes narrowed, but she allowed Fleur to carefully dry and dress her.

"Ron used to have a crush on me, did he not?" Fleur asked abruptly as Hermione was about to leave the bathroom.

"Well—I—yes, I suppose—but that was—" Hermione stammered.

"Oh, he could not help it. It is the Veela blood," Fleur said flippantly. "But have you not noticed that, whenever we are in a room together, his eyes never leave you? Not even for a second?" She cocked her head to the side. "I am not quite used to being ignored. It makes you wonder, does it not, what has changed since the last time I saw him? Why is it that now, he does not look at me when, one year ago, he could not look away? I think you know the answer to that question as well as I."

Fleur brushed past Hermione, shooting her a knowing smile as she closed the bathroom door behind her. Hermione stood speechless, staring at the floor for who knows how long. A smile teased at her lips and she pulled the door open, nearly colliding into Ron as she turned down the hallway.

"Hey," he murmured, turning to face her.

"Hi," she whispered, biting back a smile.

"Dinner will be ready in 10 minutes," Fleur sang as she floated past them.

Ron's eyes didn't leave Hermione's. Not even for a second.


	4. minutes

"I don't understand why we couldn't have just done this the _normal_ way," Ron grumbled, bouncing his knee and wringing his hands.

"Just a few more minutes," Hermione chided, feigning nonchalance. In reality, though, her stomach was churning, and it took every bit of willpower she had to keep her hands from shaking.

Truthfully, she didn't know why she insisted on using a Muggle test. They were less accurate than the magical ones, and the waiting. . . She thought the waiting might kill her.

Three minutes.

Ron, apparently noticing Hermione trying to hide her nerves, took her hand.

"Hey," he murmured. "Whatever it says, we'll be okay, yeah?"

Hermione nodded, willing her tears not to fall. "I just don't know if I can take another negative," she whispered.

Two minutes.

Ron reached up and tucked a piece of stray hair behind Hermione's ear, cupping her face tenderly. Even now, years after finally making their feelings for each other official, his touch still sent sparks across Hermione's skin.

"One minute," she said breathlessly.

Ron nodded, and his jaw steeled. He took both of Hermione's hands in his, and they breathed together as they had done countless times before.

Three.

Two.

One.

Hermione let out a shaky breath as the second hand hit 12. It was time. She locked eyes with Ron, and he tried to give her a comforting smile, but his doubt shone through. Hermione grabbed the test off the table, and stared at the underside, unable to flip it over.

Wordlessly, Ron took the test from her, braced himself, and flipped the strip over. For a moment, his expression was unreadable, but then he looked up at Hermione, his face bright and tears glinting in his eyes.

"Yes?" Hermione asked, her voice almost imperceptible.

Ron nodded and bit his trembling lip. "Yes."

Hermione's heart soared, and she flung herself off her chair and into Ron's arms. Tears soaked into Ron's shirt, but Hermione knew he wouldn't care. After years of trying and failing and trying and failing, they were _finally_ going to be parents.

"I love you so much," Ron murmured into Hermione's hair, and she knew that all the pain and hardships had been worth it.


	5. hours

Hermione stared out at the passing fields, trying not to let the tears fall. A prefect from Ravenclaw had just walked past her compartment announcing that they'd be arriving shortly, which should've made Hermione happy. Instead, it just about broke her heart. The pity in the prefect's eyes as she saw Hermione sitting alone certainly didn't help.

She had already spent the first hours of the train ride coming to terms with the fact that her friends had ditched her. She didn't need some prefect rubbing in Hermione's face just how pathetic she was.

She had wrestled with the idea of trying to find Harry and Ron but ultimately decided against it. She didn't need to be humiliated further. She and Ron had specifically said to meet in the same compartment they'd ridden in on the journey home last year, and Hermione arrived at King's Cross Station an hour early just to make sure she was able to save it. As other kids—mostly first and second years—asked to sit, she'd proudly told them that, sorry, those seats were saved.

It wasn't until the conductor gave the five-minute warning that Hermione saw the first Weasleys pass by the compartment—almost late, as always. Hermione waited eagerly for her friends even after the train pulled out of the station. She tried to convince herself that the boys were just catching up with their other friends, or maybe they forgot which cabin to go to and were looking for her.

After an hour, though, Hermione knew they must've found other people—cooler people—to sit with. She could understand why Harry might've had reason to ditch her, being the Boy who Lived and all, but she couldn't even begin to comprehend why Ron would do that to her. They'd been writing all summer, _he'd_ arranged to meet her at Diagon Alley, and _he_ was the one to suggest meeting in this compartment so they'd be able to find each other right away.

She found herself almost wishing Ron and Harry were in trouble somewhere—nothing serious, of course, but to the point that they couldn't be on the train for some reason. That would be easier to think about than the idea that she'd finally, _finally_ , managed to make friends, just for them to drop her a year later.

And not that she'd ever admit it to _anyone_ , but seeing Ron's name at the end of his letters had started to stir butterflies in Hermione's stomach. She thought, or maybe hoped, that he felt the same way, but, well. . . he clearly wasn't interested.

She changed into her robes at the last possible second, bracing herself for another friendless first day.


	6. red

Hermione couldn't sleep. She had a bad feeling about the wedding tomorrow. She had already double and triple checked her beaded bag to make sure everything was ready, but there was only so much digging in the bag she could do before Ginny woke up.

Hermione slinked down the stairs, careful to pass over the step that creaked loudly enough to wake the whole house. She snuck into the pantry—the only private room in the house due to Fleur's family scattered around—and almost jumped out of her skin when the light turned on of its own accord.

"Ronald!" Hermione hissed once she saw Ron's alarmed face. "What are you doing in here?"

"I'm just getting a Midnight snack," Ron replied in mock-offense.

Hermione put her hands on her hips, which took some maneuvering in the cramped space. "I know for a fact that you have a secret stash of Chocolate Frogs under your mattress. So what are you really doing here?"

"You realize this is my house, right?" Ron joked. "Shouldn't I be the one asking that question?"

Hermione just glared, the corner of her lip turning up. Ron sighed.

"Fine. I wanted to play with the Deluminator, but Harrykickedmeout," he mumbled, stringing the last words together.

"You said he kicked you out?" Hermione giggled. "Of your own bedroom?"

"And now I'm being interrogated by you in my safe place: the pantry."

Hermione chuckled and rolled her eyes.

"So why are you here?" Ron asked, sitting down on a crate and gesturing for Hermione to take the one next to him.

"Couldn't sleep," she replied, not wanting to explain further and risk worrying Ron.

They sat in comfortable silence, Ron flicking the lights on and off and Hermione reorganizing her bag for the fourth time that night.

"D'you want a biscuit?" Ron asked abruptly.

"Wh-what?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"A biscuit," Ron repeated, showing her the tin of biscuits he had apparently grabbed at some point.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh.

"What's so funny?" Ron asked nervously.

"Nothing, I just. . . Sometimes I forget what life was like before the war. That just reminded me, I guess.

"I miss it," she continued after a beat. "Just being normal teenagers with you and Harry."

"I wonder what we'd be doing right now if we were just normal teenagers," Ron questioned, already biting into his second biscuit.

"Probably not hiding out in a pantry," Hermione replied, sneaking a glance at Ron and grinning.

"You never know," Ron joked, offering her another biscuit. Him and his biscuits.

She immediately turned bright red and heat rose up her neck as she thought of a reason they might be alone in a pantry under different circumstances. She cleared her throat and wracked her brain, which was pretty much useless at the moment, for something to say to change the topic.

"I know what we'd be doing," Ron declared, causing Hermione to squeak inaudibly. "You'd be bugging Harry and me to study for the NEWTs, and we'd be complaining because the tests aren't for months."

Luckily—and surprisingly—Ron's mind didn't seem to go to the same place Hermione's had, and he didn't notice her previous discomfort.

"And you'd pretend to hate it, but you'd secretly be thanking me?" Hermione offered, grateful for the shift in the conversation.

"Ha," Ron snorted.

They fell silent again, and Hermione closed her eyes contentedly. She listened to the ticking of the Weasley's family clock, Ron fiddling with the Deluminator, the dull sound of the wind against the house. She felt at peace.

"Did I ever tell you that I was almost not sorted into Gryffindor?" Hermione asked, unsure of why she was compelled to share that particular story now of all times.

Ron looked at her with confusion, which answered her question.

"Yeah. I was almost put into Ravenclaw," she explained. "I _begged_ the Sorting Hat not to put me there. I didn't want to be just the smart girl anymore. I mean, that's why I didn't have any friends before coming to Hogwarts."

Her face flushed again. "I don't know why I told you that last bit."

Ron smiled and knocked his shoulder into hers. "Well, I'm glad you chose Gryffindor. There's no way I could've passed Potions, or Transfiguration, or History of Magic, or Herbology, or—"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. I'm amazing," Hermione said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"You are," Ron murmured, his expression unreadable.

Hermione shifted on her crate. She didn't think she'd be able to walk away a second time if he tried to kiss her.

"I should probably get back upstairs," she whispered, pulling herself to standing. "Big day tomorrow and all. . ."

Before she could think about it, she leaned down, pressed her lips to Ron's cheek, and quickly scrambled out of the pantry. As she turned to shut the door behind her, she saw Ron staring dazedly in front of him, his face blending seamlessly into his hair, and his hand touching the spot Hermione's lips had been just moments before.


	7. orange

Hermione rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, slipping a long-sleeved shirt over her tank top, and made her way down to the kitchen, passing Harry still asleep in Sirius' room.

She yawned as she loaded a plate up with toast and fruit, courtesy of Kreacher. She had been awake until early in the morning, poring over diagrams of the Ministry of Magic, and slept restlessly during the few hours she was able to quiet her thoughts.

Behind her, Ron choked on his juice, and Hermione whipped around to look at him in concern.

"Is that my shirt?" he croaked, his eyes wide.

Hermione glanced down at the bright orange Chudley Cannons shirt that hung past her shorts, giving the illusion that she wasn't wearing pants. Her neck and face flushed, and she hiked the shirt up above her waistband.

"I was so tired this morning, I just grabbed a shirt out of the laundry basket, I didn't realize. . ." she explained frantically. "I'll go change."

"Wait! It's, er, it's fine," Ron called as she turned to head back up the stairs. "It looks good on you," he murmured into his cup.

Biting back a smile, Hermione took the seat across from him and rested her knee against his under the table. She pretended not to hear Ron's sharp intake of breath as she sipped her coffee innocently.


	8. yellow

"Okay, students," called the cheery voice of Professor Sprout. "Pair off."

Everyone scrambled to find a work station with their friends. Ron, who had almost been late to class and was standing at the back of the greenhouse, looked over the heads of his classmates to find Harry. He was already standing at a station with Neville and shot Ron a look that said "I'm sorry," but Ron just shrugged. He scanned the rest of the greenhouse to find a partner and spotted a station with a spot open next to. . . Hermione.

Fantastic.

He trudged over to her and huffed when she narrowed her eyes at him. Just that morning, he had discovered Scabbers to be missing—likely dead—and blood all over his sheets. Naturally, he blamed Crookshanks, which seemed to irritate Hermione. They hadn't spoken a word since their argument at breakfast.

Ron had to hold back a groan as Professor Sprout explained their task for the day. They'd be extracting poison from Golden Nettle plants, a job that required two people working together in very close proximity. This day just kept getting better and better.

"I'll clamp the shoots," Hermione offered.

Ordinarily, Ron would've agreed. With Golden Nettle, one person had to hold the shoots together while the other tickled the leaves, releasing the poison from the flowers in a steady trickle. If the shoots weren't held together properly, the plant would spit the poison in a high arc, which would likely hit both people working and cause severe burns. Normally, that was too much pressure for Ron, but today, he felt like he had something to prove.

"What? You don't believe I can handle clamping the shoots? Just like you don't believe your cat murdered Scabbers?" Ron snapped. " _You_ tickle the leaves."

Hermione scoffed and held her hands up as if surrendering.

"Let's just get to work," she muttered as she grabbed a tray of plants and pulled on her dragon-skin gloves. Ron followed suit. He held the shoots together firmly as Hermione expertly extracted the poison. As he studied the plants, he began comparing them to Hermione. The Golden Nettle had these unassuming yellow flowers that were actually quite pretty, but they were tougher than they looked, just like Hermione.

Not the pretty part, of course. Well. . . maybe. She definitely wasn't _ugly_ , but that didn't make her pretty. Ron did often find himself staring at her hair, or her smile, or her eyes, but that wasn't because he found her attractive. Right?

"Ron!" Hermione yelped, clasping her hand over his. The flower had started bubbling, like a volcano getting ready to erupt. Ron shifted his grip on the shoots and the poison started flowing steadily again.

"Pay more attention," Hermione hissed. "Unless you _want_ me to get sent to the hospital wing."

Her eyes were blazing as if she was daring Ron to challenge her. He just muttered a quick apology. He figured that was safer than telling Hermione he was distracted because he'd been comparing her to a poison-spitting plant.


	9. green

Ron walked into his apartment, wanting nothing more than to collapse on his bed, but he wanted to be awake when Hermione got home. After finishing school, she'd been given a low-level job at the Ministry of Magic, and she was so passionate about the work, even if she was just taking notes for her bosses. Hearing her talk about her day made Ron fall in love with her a bit more each time. Her face lit up, her eyes were always bright and animated, and she didn't seem to care that Ron never knew exactly what she was talking about.

Ron trudged into his bedroom, thinking he could just take a quick nap, and found a green book perched on his pillow. It couldn't be. . .

He picked up the book, which now had a note sitting on top scrawled in Hermione's impeccable handwriting.

_I stopped home at lunch and saw this poking out from under the bed. I added some tips. . . I hope you don't mind. xo_

Ron nervously thumbed through the pages, seeing notes in the same perfect handwriting etched in the margins every few pages. After a while—long enough that Ron's eyes burned from staring at the small text for so long—he heard the front door creak open, signaling that Hermione was finally home. He quietly slinked out of their bedroom and snuck into the kitchen, where she was standing with her back to Ron. He slid his arms around her, hugging her from behind—the first of many Hermione-approved tips he was planning on trying out tonight. He kissed her neck and breathed in the scent of her.

"I see you got my note," she teased, twisting around so she was facing Ron.

"Perhaps."

"So. . . Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches," she said, biting back a grin. "Do they work?"

"Oh, most definitely," Ron replied, pulling Hermione closer. "You think I was able to get you to fall for me on my own?"

Hermione grinned and kissed Ron, just a peck on the corner of his mouth, and tried to pull away. Ron made a sound of protest.

"Where do you think you're going?" He asked as he tugged her back by the sides of her jacket.

Hermione held her arms out and looked herself up and down as if that was answer enough. "I'm a mess. I'm just going to go get freshened up, then you can show me if you've improved as a student since your Hogwarts days."

Ron pulled her in tighter. "First of all, rude. I was an excellent student. Second, you couldn't be farther from a mess."

Hermione scoffed but didn't make any effort to escape from Ron's hold on her. "Isn't giving compliments, like, step one? I would've assumed you'd be more advanced than that."

"Well, yeah, but that's not what this is. I mean. . . god, you're gorgeous," he murmured, his voice dropping to the husky tone he knew Hermione loved.

She rolled her eyes, but she was grinning shyly. Her arms snaked up to Ron's neck, and she pulled him down to her, kissing him softly at first, but then more hungrily. Ron's hands were splayed across her back, playing with the curls at the ends of her hair. He knew Hermione was self-conscious about it—she always had been—but he thought it only made her more beautiful. He quickly snapped his attention away from her hair; it was becoming increasingly more difficult to think about anything but Hermione's lips on his, her fingers on his neck causing the skin to prickle in anticipation.

She tugged herself away from him and smiled at him slyly.

"Wh—wh—" Ron started, but he seemed to be unable to form words. Hermione tended to have that effect on him.

"Just come with me," Hermione whispered, her eyes glinting mischievously. "I'll show you some things I _couldn't_ write down."


	10. blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a line in here that makes more sense if you read chapter 34 first, but it’s definitely not necessary :)

"Come and dance," Ron requested, holding his hand out to Hermione. She looked startled, but smiled and took his hand.

The first song was one of Mrs. Weasley's favorites by the Weird Sisters, and Ron made Hermione giggle by dramatically lip-syncing to the words. He took both of her hands and they jumped and twisted back and forth, which was a lot more labor-intensive than he would've thought. By the third song, Ron was already out of breath, and Hermione was smiling brightly. Ron had a feeling that this was the last time he'd get to see her smiling like that, so he kept dancing.

Eventually, the band switched over to a slow song, and Ron cleared his throat awkwardly as he gazed at Hermione.

She raised her eyebrow as if to say, "Well. . . what are you waiting for?" It also could've meant, "You'd better not try to put your hand on my waist," but Ron decided to ignore that possibility.

Cautiously, he pulled Hermione closer and wrapped his arms around her waist. She weaved her arms up and her hands started to subconsciously play with the hair at the base of Ron's neck. It sent both chills and sparks down his spine. He didn't know how she did it, but he wasn't complaining.

Hermione drew herself closer to Ron until they were pressed right against each other. Ron inhaled sharply.

"You really do look incredible," he said softly to Hermione, recalling when she had first walked up to the tent. She had literally taken his breath away, and he'd stopped talking in the middle of a sentence to gape at her. Not one of his finest moments. 

"You clean up well yourself," Hermione replied, looking up at him with a grin.

She rested her head back on his chest, and he prayed she wouldn't feel his heart working in overtime. He thought about the night only days before. The rain, Hermione's arms in his, the ghost of a kiss that never happened, her tears as she walked away.

"So listen, about the other night. . ." Ron started, slightly uncomfortable.

Hermione looked up at him expectantly.

"I think—"

Blue light streamed into the tent, cutting Ron off and announcing the death of the Minister of Magic. Masked figures appeared in the tent and chaos broke out as spells started flying. Ron and Hermione were pushed apart by panicked party-goers.

"Hermione!" Ron called, searching for her in the crowd. Not for the first time, he cursed Fleur for inviting so many guests to the reception. He eventually reached Harry and Hermione, and in the split second it took Hermione to whisk them away, Ron understood that she had been right. 

After a single night of dancing with her, Ron was more concerned about her safety than anything else. If they were together in the way he so desperately wanted them to be, it could ruin any chance of them defeating Voldemort. Even though it was killing him inside, Ron would have to push his feelings for Hermione aside.


	11. purple

At first, it was red. Gryffindor had defeated Slytherin in their best game of the season, and the entire common room was filled with red and gold. Seamus had clearly gotten over his resentment at not being put on the team in Katie's absence, for he had hung Gryffindor banners around the entire room and was dressed head to toe in the house colors. Even Hermione's frustration with Ron didn't keep her from wanting to join in the celebration. She made her way down from her dormitory with a smile, congratulating Ginny and Dean as she passed them by the window.

Then, it was orange, and Hermione's face fell. There in the corner by the fire was Ron's flaming hair, and beneath his hands was Lavender Brown. She had spent weeks pestering Hermione about Ron since the term started, but Hermione had always secretly laughed her off. Although Hermione had grown to enjoy—or at least tolerate—Lavender, she knew Ron wouldn't be interested in a boy-crazed, gossip-obsessed girl like her. But there they were. She rushed out of the common room, almost pushing two first years over as she went.

Next, it was yellow. The twittering birds circled her head, creating a sort of halo. She brushed the tears off of her cheeks immediately as she heard the creak of the door, but it was just Harry. As he complimented her spell, Hermione's thoughts drifted back to Lavender. What did she have that Hermione didn't? What made Ron notice _her_ when Hermione had been there all along?

Eventually, it was green. The Christmas season was quickly approaching, and trees and wreaths hung throughout the castle. Usually, Hermione admired the holiday decorations, but this year, she couldn't bring herself to feel anything but resentment towards them. Mistletoe magically made its way into the common room during lessons, and each night, Hermione would be forced to walk past Lavender and Ron, giggling underneath the sprigs. Only when she was alone in her dormitory did she allow the tears to fall.

It was blue as Hermione walked down her dormitory steps, feeling out of place. She was wearing the new sapphire dress her parents had sent her for Christmas. Although it was much more conservative than what some of the other girls would be wearing, it was still a bit too tight and low cut for Hermione's liking. She made her way across the common room to where Cormac was sitting, mentally cursing herself yet again for asking him. She kept her eyes trained ahead, avoiding Ron's gaze, but she could feel his eyes trailing after her. She bit back a smile and tried to seem mildly interested in her date as he approached her.

Hermione had just given Harry a hug goodbye, telling him to write over the break, when she saw Lavender leading Ron into the courtyard, just feet from where Hermione stood. 'Lav-Lav' pulled him into a long, deep kiss and Hermione felt her throat tighten. She looked away, intensely studying the cracks between the stones on the ground. Countless times, she had heard the phrase "green with envy," but Hermione was starting to think that if she had to pick a color to represent jealousy. . . it would be purple.


	12. friends

Hermione woke up on November first with a tightness released from her chest—one that she didn't know was even there. She hummed as she got ready, ignoring the confused stares from Lavender and Parvati. As she left the dormitory, she tried to bite back her smile, but it was proving to be impossible.

With a start, she realized Ron and Harry were standing at the base of the stairs. She assumed she'd have the walk to breakfast to compose herself, but here they were, and she was still grinning like an idiot.

"We thought we could walk to breakfast together," Ron said shyly, his cheeks pink.

On the entire way to the Great Hall—as well as anytime Hermione walked with the boys to any of their classes that day—she had to fight to keep herself from skipping through the halls.

All day, Ron was paying extra attention to Hermione, complimenting her in Charms and Potions, saving her a seat in Defense Against the Dark Arts, finding her in the common room when Harry was at Quidditch practice. Hermione suspected that it was because he felt responsible for the troll incident, but she didn't mind. She was just happy to have him as a friend.


	13. family

Hermione caught her reflection in the mirror and gasped. For the first time, she almost understood why Ron found her beautiful. Her makeup was minimal, just as she'd requested, but her face looked like it was glowing—although that could've been out of happiness. 

Her hair was pulled back and braided into a crown, a hairstyle that had taken extreme amounts of Sleekeazy's hair potion, pulling and tugging for hours at the hair salon, and more barrettes than she had ever seen in one place. Little curls that had refused to stay in place framed her face, but she had a feeling Ron would've wanted that anyway.

Hermione was interrupted by a faint knocking at the door. Ginny peeked her head in, her face lighting up when she saw Hermione in her dress.

"Are you ready to join the Weasley clan?" she asked, open the door wider to slip inside, allowing Hermione to hear the sounds of her future family talking and laughing.

"I've been ready for a long time," Hermione admitted, her eyes shining.

"Hey, no crying yet!" Ginny exclaimed, putting an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "Fleur will kill us both if you ruin your makeup."

"Sorry," Hermione laughed. "It's just. . . I love my parents. I mean, of course, I do. But ever since the first time I visited the Burrow, I've wanted a family like yours. And after a while, I realized I didn't just want a family _like_ yours, I actually wanted to be a part of your family."

Ginny smiled warmly. "You've always been family, Hermione."

Hermione smiled back, ignoring Ginny's cliche. Of course she hadn't _always_ been family, but it was a nice sentiment. As if reading her thoughts, Ginny squeezed Hermione's shoulder.

"I'm serious. After the first summer Ron invited you to spend with us, the entire family started taking bets on when you'd finally get together. I'm pretty sure Percy won, believe it or not."

Hermione bit her lip and chuckled. Had the entire Weasley family seen through her that early on? 

A split second later, Ginny answered that question for her. Hermione made a mental note to ask her if she'd been learning Legilimency. 

"Ron was so hopelessly in love with you, even back then," Ginny laughed. "He was obviously the last one to notice, of course."

Tears sprung back up in Hermione's eye, but Ginny didn't notice, because the dressing room door was whisked open by a red-faced Fleur. She pulled Ginny away, frantically whispering about a Weasley cousin who'd accidentally set Hermione's great uncle's beard on fire.

Hermione watched them disappear back into the loud throngs of people. She was ready.


	14. strangers

Hermione woke early in the morning, much earlier than usual, and heard the distant sounds of Ron fiddling with the locket as he sat outside. She soundlessly got out from her bunk, pulled on a sweater, and crossed the tent. Ron glanced at her as her head peeked through the tent flap.

"I couldn't get back to sleep," she explained. "D'you mind?"

She gestured to the empty space next to Ron. He grunted, which Hermione interpreted as a mark of approval. She sat next to him, pulling her knees into her chest. Ever since they'd found the locket, he'd been increasingly on edge, and he often found ways to take his frustration out by criticizing Hermione. All of the fleeting touches and lingering glances they'd shared at the Burrow seemed to be the stuff of the past, and Ron was colder to her now than ever before.

A chilling breeze floated through them, and Hermione took the opportunity to burrow closer to Ron. When he didn't pull away, her heart lifted, just slightly. Maybe he was warming up to her. Maybe he was learning to ignore the effects of the locket. Maybe things would go back to normal soon. Maybe she'd have the Ron she knew and loved back.

But then, as the sun came up through the trees, they heard a crash from inside the tent and Hermione whipped her head around.

"Sorry, just bumped into the table," grumbled Harry, rubbing his hip.

Hermione turned back to Ron to find an icy expression on his face.

"Shouldn't you go kiss him better?"

As Ron glowered at her, seemingly daring her to run to Harry, Hermione felt a single tear fall down her face. She got up quickly, brushed the tear away, and made for the forest, making an excuse about finding breakfast.

Hermione was used to Ron's remarks about her and Harry, so his words didn't cut her so much as the expression still etched across his face. One that was so unfamiliar to Hermione that, at that moment, Ron looked like a stranger.


	15. partners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a line in here that makes more sense after reading chapter 39, but it’s definitely not necessary :)

Hermione sat with Luna and Neville in what remained of the Great Hall, picking at the potatoes in front of her. She along with many of the other Order and DA members had stayed in various dormitories and had spent the afternoon clearing the rubble from the castle.

The task had been draining—physically, but mostly emotionally. Hogwarts had been the first place she really felt she belonged, and to see it in pieces. . . it nearly broke her. She excused herself from the table and smiled reassuringly at her friends. She wandered down to the lake, the only place that at least _looked_ untouched, and drank in the sun.

She didn't know how long she sat there—minutes, hours, days—before she felt a light touch on her shoulder. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she looked up to see the silhouette of Ron towering over her. It was the first time she'd seen him since early this morning when he disappeared with his family, and the sight of him affected her more than normal. Her stomach was in knots, her hands were trembling, and she felt slightly nauseated.

"Do you want to take a walk?" he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets, looking uncomfortable. 

Hermione nodded and picked herself off the ground. She and Ron walked in silence for a while, but a sense of calm washed over her, and she knew Ron felt it, too. They ended up in Hogsmeade and wandered past the shops, most of which had been boarded up.

"Can we sit?" Ron asked, pulling Hermione over to a bench at the edge of the village. He took a deep breath and continued.

"So. . . there are obviously a few things we need to talk about," he said, shifting nervously on the bench.

Hermione nodded, feeling butterflies dancing around her stomach. It was silent for a moment.

"I kind of figured you would start," Ron said finally.

"Oh, no," Hermione replied with a glint in her eye. "You've got this one."

"Right. . ." Ron murmured. "Well, er, we kissed."

"That we did," Hermione confirmed, biting back a smile.

"Well, and I thought maybe that would change things for us," Ron stammered, his face almost as red as his hair. "If you want it to, I mean. I know I messed up majorly when I left, and I don't expect you to forgive me for that anytime soon. I won't forgive _myself_ for a long time. But you. . . you mean everything to me, Hermione, and I can't," he took a trembling breath. "I can't go back to the way it was before. Being with you but not _with_ you. . ."

Hermione was unable to contain the grin spreading across her face. "I don't want to go back to that either."

"You don't?" Ron asked eagerly. "I mean, I kind of thought after last night when we slept togeth—well not _slept_ together, but, you know, same bed, and—"

"Ron?" Hermione cut him off.

"Yeah?" He asked, his face the deepest shade of red Hermione had ever seen it.

"Just kiss me."

"Yeah, okay," Ron murmured as he leaned down and closed the distance between them.

It was a different kind of kiss than the one only hours earlier. It was less fervent, less hungry. That kiss was releasing years of pent up emotion, but _this_ kiss. . . this kiss was sweet and tender and full of promises for years to come.


	16. moon

Ron crept down the hallway, feeling at the walls in the dark. He'd been so proud of himself for thinking to use Harry's invisibility cloak but had forgotten a lamp. There was clearly a reason Hermione usually came up with plans.

He finally reached the hospital wing, whispered _"Alohamora,"_ and slipped inside, barely opening the door, but still wincing at the loud _creak_ it made. He crossed the room and parted the curtain around the farthest bed, pausing for any sounds of Madam Pomfrey stirring. When he was sure she was still asleep, he slipped out of the cloak and closed the curtain around the bed.

The light of the moon shone through the window above the bed, illuminating Hermione's face, frozen in fear. Ron settled into the chair next to her and took her hand in his, though he'd never admit that to anyone.

"Hey, Hermione," he whispered. "I know you'd kill me for being out of the tower so late, especially right now, but I thought you might be lonely."

He blushed. "It sounds dumb now that I say it out loud because you're, well, petrified, so you're probably not aware of anything right now. But, I don't know. . . I thought it was a good idea at first. I guess I just miss you."

His eyes widened in panic. "Harry and I do, I mean," he added frantically.

"The Mandrakes are doing well, so you should be back to normal soon, don't worry. It's been weird without you. At first, it was nice without you nagging Harry and me to do our homework, but now. . . well, I'm just ready for you to be back."

He sat and talked to her for what felt like hours, explaining everything Hagrid had told them and their run-in with Aragog—although he left out the part about him wanting to either cry, pass out, or run away throughout the entire meeting. Once the sky started to lighten, Ron realized Madam Pomfrey would likely be waking soon.

"I should probably get back before Harry realizes I'm gone," he told her as he stood up. "Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that I took his invisibility cloak without asking. You'll have to yell at me for that, too, when you wake up. If you can hear me, that is.

"I sort of hope you can't. I don't really want Harry to find out I snuck down here. . ." he trailed off, just realizing how awkward the whole situation would be to explain. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Anyways, bye Hermione," he whispered, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead without thinking.

He slipped the cloak over his head, his face burning and now _really_ hoping Hermione couldn't see or hear anything.


	17. star

Hermione had pulled a blanket from her bed in Ginny's room and spread it out on the damp grass outside the Burrow. She laid there, feeling the cool breeze tickling her skin, staring at the sky. Not long after all the lights in the house had shut off, she heard feet rustling across the lawn.

"Hey," she whispered as Ron's face came into view above hers.

She shifted on the blanket and Ron slid next to her. Hermione was acutely aware of their bare arms lightly touching, Ron's face just inches from hers.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked in a low voice.

"My parents," she said wistfully. "We used to always stargaze together when we'd go camping. Looking at the stars always used to make me feel closer to them, but I feel farther from them now than ever before."

A single tear fell down Hermione's face and Ron reached over to brush it away. Hermione's heart caught and she took a sharp inhale of breath. Ron cleared his throat and awkwardly pulled his hand from Hermione's cheek.

"So, er, what are we looking at exactly?" Ron asked after a moment of charged silence.

"Honestly, Ronald, did you pay attention at all in Astronomy?" Hermione asked, relieved at the break in the tension. "That one right there is Hercules," she explained, her arm outstretched and pointing at the sky.

Ron squinted his eyes and tried to follow Hermione's hand. Giving up with a shrug, he shifted his gaze.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, now pointing his arm at the sky. "Isn't Ursa Major around here somewhere?"

Hermione moved her head closer to Ron's to look at where he was pointing. She reached up, putting her hand lightly on his wrist, and moved it slightly to the left.

"There," she whispered, letting her hand fall back down to her side, seeing goosebumps on Ron's skin where her fingers had brushed his arm.

He lowered his arm and turned his head to look at Hermione. She felt his breath warm on her face and an expectant silence hovered between them.

"Hermione," Ron whispered, his voice slightly strained.

He moved his head closer to hers and Hermione let out a shuddering breath, feeling chills rush down her spine.

"Ron! Hermione!" called the sharp voice of Molly Weasley from a window above them. "Inside! It's too dangerous to be out at this time of night."

They snapped apart, the spell between them broken. They scrambled off the blanket, which Ron picked up and handed to Hermione, letting his hand trail along her arm for a second too long. They walked back inside in silence, the ghost of what had almost happened hanging between them.

"Goodnight," Hermione whispered once they reached Ginny's bedroom door.

Ron looked like he wanted to say something, but just gave her a soft smile and turned up the stairs. Hermione closed the door behind her and leaned against it, still feeling the echo of Ron's light touch on her arm.


	18. sunrise

"What do you think you're doing?"

Ron froze and turned around to find Hermione sitting at the kitchen table. He took his hand off the door handle and smiled at her sheepishly. It was still dark outside, a deep purple that Ron knew would turn into brilliant shades of red and orange, and he had passed right by Hermione as he tried sneaking out.

"So?" Hermione asked, looking at him expectantly.

"I was just going to go flying quickly before we leave," he explained, blushing fiercely. "I'm trying out for Keeper, and, well, I could use the practice."

"Take me with you," Hermione insisted, standing up.

Ron looked at her incredulously. "Flying? But you hate flying."

Hermione just shrugged as if to say _"why not?"_

"Okay then," Ron said warily.

Hermione followed him outside to the broom shed.

"Why were you up so early?" Ron asked as they made their way across the grass.

"I never went to sleep," she admitted. "I was looking over our new books from Diagon Alley, and just lost track of time. You know how it is."

"I don't, actually," Ron chuckled. Only Hermione would get so absorbed in a _textbook_ that she forgot to sleep.

Ron pulled his broom out of the shed—the one he'd been given when he became prefect—and swung a leg over.

"Alright, climb on," he told Hermione.

As she got settled behind him, Ron could feel her trying to decide where to put her hands, eventually loosely resting them on his sides. Ron's heart skipped a beat, and he cleared his throat.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yes," Hermione replied, sounding nervous.

Ron took off, and she tightened her grip on his waist but didn't say anything, which Ron took as a good sign. The last time she rode on a broom, she begged to be let down almost immediately. They flew in comfortable silence, just a few meters off the ground as the sky turned lighter shades of blue.

"I want to show you something," Ron said back to her, "but you'll have to trust me."

He started gradually climbing higher and higher, careful not to incline too steeply. Once they were high enough that they could just barely see the village in the distance, Hermione let out a squeak and hugged her arms around Ron, burrowing her head in the space between his shoulder blades.

He inhaled sharply, and his mind went blank. He was supposed to be doing something. . . What was he supposed to be doing? Hermione's arms were wrapped around him, and her body was pressed right against him, and _what was he supposed to be doing?_

"Ron!" Hermione shrieked, snapping him back to reality.

He'd been veering off course and was about to slam into the roof of the Burrow. He corrected immediately and soared clear of the house.

"Sorry," he mumbled sheepishly. "Lost control of the broom. But just watch."

He slowly turned them around so they were facing east. The sun was rising and the sky was painted in reds, oranges, yellows, and pinks. It was the most beautiful sunrise he'd ever seen, although it was very likely his feelings about being so close to Hermione were influencing that sentiment.

"Wow," she whispered, exhaling and causing every hair on Ron's neck to stand up. "It's gorgeous."

 _So are you,_ Ron wanted to say. Instead, he just sat and watched, savoring his last morning at the Burrow.


	19. sunset

Ron rolled the box around behind his back and wiped his hands on his pants every few seconds, the most nervous he'd ever been. With every noise in the hallway, he'd perk up, only to find himself increasingly disappointed when it wasn't followed by the turning of the doorknob.

He had thought about this day for months. He'd gone over every detail in his head, rehearsed what he was going to say until he could practically say it backward, and he'd even had to pull a few strings at the Ministry, just to make sure it was perfect.

After 10 achingly long minutes, Ron finally heard Hermione's twinkling laugh as she caught up with a neighbor, saw the door handle turn and the door open, smelled Hermione's lemon and lavender perfume as she gave him a hug.

"Hey," Ron said, his voice higher than usual. "I have a surprise for you."

"Well, consider me intrigued," Hermione replied, cocking her head to the side.

Ron lifted his arm, gesturing for Hermione to take it, took a deep breath, turned on the spot, and whisked them away. They landed on soft ground, overlooking a fairground filled with Muggle food carts, game booths, and fair rides. The sun was setting, and everything was cast in an orange glow. 

"Is this. . ." Hermione started breathlessly.

"The very same," he answered.

"But how?"

"I had some built-up favors at the Ministry and they were able to make sure Muggles weren't around for the night." Hermione looked impressed, which helped boost Ron's confidence. "I wanted to make sure tonight was perfect," he added, his voice in a near whisper.

Wrapping her arms around his torso and leaning her head on his chest, Hermione looked up at Ron lovingly, the colors of the sunset illuminated in her eyes.

"It already is perfect," she assured him.

"Well, I have one more thing that will hopefully make it a bit better." Ron took a deep breath, his hand shaking slightly as he pulled away from Hermione and took her hands in his. Hermione gasped, her eyes shining.

"In our fifth year at Hogwarts, you told me that I had the emotional range of a teaspoon, and, although I never would've admitted it, at that time, you were right. But loving you has made me feel things that, years ago, would've made my head explode. Instead, you make my breath catch and my head spin and my heart race. You make me a better man. When I'm with you, I feel strong and worthy and brave and loved.

"Two years ago on this day, in this very place, you told me you loved me for the first time, and I knew from that day on, I was going to spend every waking minute of every single day trying to make you feel the way I did at that moment. My heart loved you long before my brain caught up, and I lost out on what could've been years with you. I don't want to make the mistake of waiting ever again."

Ron bent down on one knee, pulled the wooden box out of his jacket pocket, and opened it to reveal a single sparkling diamond sitting on a simple silver band. Hermione laughed breathily and covered her mouth with her hand.

"Hermione Jean Granger, will you marry me?"

"Yes," she said immediately and flung her arms around him, nearly pushing him over. "Yes, yes, yes," she murmured against Ron's lips.

Tears were swimming in her eyes, she was still wearing her stiff Ministry clothes, and her hair was already reacting to the humidity of the summer air. Ron had never seen anything more beautiful.


	20. sight

Ron sat on a towel at the edge of the pond, watching as Ginny and Hermione splashed each other in the water. Fred appeared with a _pop_ in front of the sun, casting a shadow on Ron and grinning widely.

"Taking in the view?" Fred teased, gesturing to Hermione.

"I—what!—it's not—no!—" he stammered, though Fred looked like he didn't believe a single word Ron was saying. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"I can't just drop in to see my baby brother?" he asked innocently. Ron shot him a dirty look and Fred sighed. "Fine. When Dad told me you asked for Hermione to come before Harry. . . Well, I couldn't pass up an opportunity to tease you. George wanted to come, too, but someone had to watch the store, and, well, he's the responsible one."

Ron snorted at the thought of _anyone_ calling George responsible.

"I hate to break it to you, but you're not going to get much out of your visit. I don't see Hermione like that," Ron said.

Now it was Fred's turn to snort. He shoved Ron over on the towel and took a seat.

"When did it start?" Fred asked. "You liking her, I mean."

"I already told you: I don't," Ron protested.

"There's not a single thing you can say that will convince me otherwise, so you might as well just tell me," Fred countered stubbornly.

Ron rolled his eyes and groaned. "After the Yule Ball, I guess. Maybe before that, 'cause I was kind of jealous of her and Krum."

"Does the sight of her just make you swoon, Ronniekins?" Fred asked, cackling.

Yes, Ron thought, though he'd never tell Fred that. He settled for a punch on the arm and "shut up" instead.

"And now you need advice from your most attractive brother? Don't worry, I'm an expert on getting out of the friend zone. Just ask my wildly-out-of-my-league girlfriend."

"I don't need advice," Ron huffed.

"Right," Fred replied, rolling his eyes. He clapped his hands on his knees and stood up. "Well, I'll be going then. Have to make sure Georgie didn't burn down the shop while I was away."

He looked down at Ron and grinned. "And, for what it's worth, I think the sight of you makes her swoon, too, hard as that is to imagine."

Fred disappeared as quickly as he arrived, leaving a blushing and dumbfounded Ron gaping at Hermione in the pond.


	21. taste

It was Hermione's first night at the Burrow. There wasn't much to celebrate at the moment, so Mrs. Weasley insisted on making her arrival into a celebration. Ron suspected she was also trying to get Hermione's mind off her parents, who were already en route to Australia.

Ron hadn't seen her since Dumbledore's funeral. They'd been writing, of course, but he knew that nothing could prepare him for when he actually saw her. 

He was right.

When she walked into the kitchen, all the thoughts in Ron's mind flew out the door. He wanted nothing more than to scoop her up in his arms and stay like that for hours, days, years. Instead, he hung back in the doorway, and when Hermione made her way over to him, he felt as if his heart would beat out of his chest.

"Hi," she murmured, wrapping her arms around him.

Ron returned the hug, holding on a beat longer than he needed to. When they broke apart, Hermione's face was pink. Her fingers trailed along his arm as she pulled away, and chills shot through Ron's entire body.

He held her gaze until someone cleared their throat behind him. Ginny raised her eyebrows and shot Ron a knowing glance. He blushed and stepped back, the hair on his arm still standing up.

As the weeks went on, he could tell something had shifted between them. They had some kind of unspoken agreement not to put a name to their feelings, but that didn't mean they couldn't show them in different ways.

Lingering glances across the table in the morning. Fingertips grazing when passing in cramped hallways. Sitting just inches from each other in front of the fire. Hidden smiles, ducked heads, flushed cheeks. Ron could feel the electric tension between them anytime they were in a room together, and he knew everyone else suspected something was going on between them.

A part of him just wanted to forget about everything holding them back from truly being together. If this—this little taste of being with Hermione—was anywhere close to the real thing, he didn't think he could wait for the war to be over.


	22. touch

_"You filthy little Mudblood."_

As much as she tried to remind herself what Ron and Hagrid had said—that the idea of dirty blood was outdated and the only people who still cared about it were pure-blood supremacists—she couldn't help hearing Malfoy's words.

She knew she was an excellent witch. Hermione wasn't modest enough to admit to being anything else. But now she couldn't help thinking. . . what if she was always seen as inferior, simply for the blood running in her veins?

Ron must've noticed her restrained attitude, because, as they sat down for lunch, he grabbed Hermione's arm and gave it a small squeeze.

"You're brilliant, you know," he whispered. "Don't let Malfoy try to tell you otherwise."

Hermione's eyes brightened as she gave him a pleased smile. How was it that Ron knew exactly how she was feeling when even Harry was oblivious? When had he become so thoughtful? And why was it that, all of a sudden, his touch shot sparks up her arm?


	23. sound

"I still don't completely understand the point of a fair," Ron confessed.

"Patience," Hermione chided with a smile, hitting Ron lightly on the chest. "This is like magic for Muggles."

She grabbed Ron's hand and led him to a stand selling something called candy floss. She paid for two, one blue, one pink. Ron emulated her pulling a piece off and his eyes widened as it dissolved in his mouth. Hermione chuckled.

"This Muggle fair isn't all that bad, is it?" she teased.

She pulled him around to different brightly colored booths adorned with stuffed animal prizes. Ron was convinced the games were rigged and Hermione just gave a small smile when he complained about this to her.

"The point isn't to win, Ron."

"Well, then, why would you play?"

He couldn't understand how Hermione, who never failed at anything, was okay with walking away from the booths without a prize.

"If it's that big of a deal to you, I'm sure we could find you a nice stuffed panda somewhere else," Hermione joked. "For now though, let's go on some rides."

A grin broke out on Hermione's face as they reached a large metal triangle with a swinging bar through the middle. With a sinking feeling, Ron realized that they would be sitting attached to the bar. He didn't understand how Muggles could build something like this without magic, but no one coming off the ride seemed injured, so it must be relatively safe.

Hermione squeezed Ron's hand excitedly as they filed into the seats around the bar. Ron's face paled when he heard the attendant give the 'all ready.' He felt them jerk backward and he gripped Hermione's hand tightly. She just looked at him and grinned.

They were swinging back and forth, going higher each time. When they were parallel to the ground below, Ron, who was forced to look directly at the ground below him, felt his stomach lurch as they soared towards the ground. Ron's screams were lost among the whoops of the other riders. As soon as he realized that he wasn't going to hit the ground face first, he felt a bright smile break across his face.

"This is brilliant!" he shouted to Hermione, the wind whipping through his hair as they continued swinging.

When they got off the ride, Ron's face was flushed and his eyes were shining.

"You were right, Hermione," he said breathlessly. "This _is_ like magic!"

They quickly used up all their tickets—Ron had been anxious to try each ride and grew more fond of Muggles with each one. Afterward, Hermione pulled him to a hill overlooking the fair. The sun was sinking below the trees and multicolored lights popped on across the grounds.

Hermione laid down a blanket and laid her head in Ron's lap.

Ron chuckled breathily. Hermione looked up at him questioningly.

"Sometimes I forget that this is real," he explained. "Us, I mean. I think I've wanted it for so long that I feel like I'm dreaming sometimes. But it is real. We're dating." He paused, laughing under his breath again. "God, I don't even think I've ever said that out loud."

Hermione grabbed his hand, draping his arm over her, and traced the lines on his palm, sending chills up his arm despite the warm weather.

"I've been wondering," Ron started again, "why did you choose to bring me to a fair?"

"Well, it's a sort of tradition for Muggles to come to one of these for their first date, plus I thought it would be nice to get away from magic for a night." She hesitated before continuing. "I see how it is for you when we go out in public. And I heard you talking to George one night. . . You said that you feel guilty when people congratulate you and that you don't think you deserve it because you couldn't save Fred. I just wanted to give you one night where you wouldn't have to feel like that. To escape."

Ron stared at her in wonder. Her face was illuminated in gold and the colors of the sunset danced in her eyes.

"I love you."

"Wh-what?" Hermione asked as if she had misheard him.

"I love you," Ron said again, as confidently as the first time.

"I love you, too," she replied in a soft voice, a smile breaking out on her face.

Ron closed his eyes, listening to the hum of bees, the laughter of kids at the fair, the wind whipping as the rides cut through the air. The most beautiful sound at the fair, though, was Hermione's voice as she said the three words Ron had been longing to hear from her for years.


	24. smell

Ron and Harry joined the rest of their classmates at Slughorn's table, where four cauldrons sat, billowing with smoke. Hermione, unsurprisingly, was able to describe the effects of each, and Slughorn released them to start on their potions only after showering her with praises.

He waddled around the room with a small flask, allowing everyone to smell it as he checked their work on their Draughts of Living Death. When he reached Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Ernie's table, he peered into all of their cauldrons approvingly—although he did scrunch up his nose slightly when he reached Ron's. Slughorn handed his flask to Hermione with a wide smile.

"Amortentia!" She identified for the second time that day. She passed the flask off to Ernie, who handed it to Harry, who gave it to Ron.

As the scent wafted to his nose, Ron smelled the familiar fragrances of the broom cupboard back at the Burrow, warm Butterbeer, the first feast of the year at Hogwarts, and, finally, a scent that he couldn't quite place, smelling faintly of lavender and lemons.

As he set back to work at his potion, Harry and Hermione started bickering about the correct way to make the draught. For the first time in either of their potions careers, Harry was doing a better job than Hermione.

As she leaned over her book to try to prove Harry wrong, Ron caught another hint of that smell from the Amortentia. Lemons and lavender. He whipped his head around, expecting to see Slughorn behind him again, but found no one. Confused but unconcerned, he set back to work on his potion. Maybe the fumes were making him imagine things.

Only after class did he realize what he had been smelling. He was walking across the courtyard with Harry and Hermione when he stopped in his tracks, having caught the scent again when a gentle breeze floated past them.

He looked cautiously at Hermione and his ears flushed pink when he caught her eyes. She gazed so intently at Ron that, just for a second, he thought she could somehow look into his mind and see what he was thinking. See that he had just realized what he had smelled in the Amortentia was her. See that he had finally understood why he felt heat creep up in his neck every time she looked at him. See that he'd felt this way about her for years, even though he'd been too thick to notice until now. He was worried that Hermione knew as well as him that, from this moment on, he could never look at her the same.


	25. winter

"Steady," Hermione laughed. "Just hold onto the wall."

She watched in amusement as Ron struggled to remain upright. When he was finally able to stand up straight, he grinned at Hermione and stuck two thumbs up, which knocked him off balance again. Hermione giggled, earning a scowl from Ron.

"Come on, just hold on to me," she suggested, grinning widely.

Hermione helped him up and waited for him to steady himself on his skates before pushing them off the wall. They glided slowly, hand in hand, across the ice. Ron was still tripping over his feet every few seconds, which Hermione found strangely endearing. They were getting lapped by laughing kids and even some grandparents, but Hermione didn't mind.

It was her first day alone with Ron since she'd arrived at the Burrow, and she found it sweet that he wanted to take her on a Muggle date—even if he was dreadful at skating.

Before she knew what was happening, Hermione felt Ron's hand abruptly tug on hers, and suddenly they were falling into a heap on the ice.

"Sorry," Ron apologized, flashing Hermione one of his lazy smiles.

He looked so cute—when had he gotten so _cute?_ —that Hermione couldn't help but lean over and kiss him. His lips were so warm and soft compared to the bitter cold air, and she was so lost in them that she almost forgot they were in a public place. She pulled away, her face flushed, and stood up with ease.

She extended her hand to Ron, who was still on the ground with a dazed expression etched on his face.

"You think I'll be able to focus on skating after that?" he asked incredulously.

The corner of Hermione's lip turned up. She was glad they were on the same page.

"My parents are out Christmas shopping. We could go—"

Ron nodded enthusiastically, not even waiting for Hermione to finish her thoughts. She laughed and rolled her eyes as she helped him off the ground. He suddenly became an expert skater as he dragged her to the rink's exit.


	26. fall

The first letter made her smile, tears springing into her eyes. His words were so beautiful, scattering the page with declarations of love. He told her how deeply he missed her, how frequently his thoughts were consumed by her—which seemed to be as often as her thoughts were full of _him_ —and how much he longed to see her, to hold her. It had only been weeks since they'd last seen each other, but she'd finally gotten him, and she hated being apart from him.

The second letter made her blush fiercely. He wrote about things that Hermione firmly believed should never be read in the Great Hall surrounded by her classmates. His words made her long for his lips on hers, for his hands to work magic in the way that only Ron could, for him to bite her lower lip in the way he knew drove her crazy. She quickly excused herself from her table before Ginny or anyone else began to suspect where her thoughts were straying.

The third letter made her angry. Not at him. Never at him. She was angry at the world. Angry at the war. Angry at _Voldemort._ The Weasley's had finally started to clean out Fred's side of the room that he used to share with George, and Ron was so broken. She would give anything to be back with him, comforting him in any way she could.

The fourth letter was only two sentences long, but it made her heart pound and her smile widen and her chest tighten in the best possible way. It was only nine words, but those nine words filled her with so much joy, she couldn't contain it.

She bounded out of her seat, ignoring the looks of confusion from her classmates, and left the castle at a near-run.

 _I missed you too much,_ the letter read. _Come to the lake._

So she did, and there he was. He was standing in the glow of the morning sun, looking so welcoming and full of love; looking like home. He looked taller than she remembered, and his face lit up when he saw her, and she could see the mischievous glint in his eyes even from here, and when did he get so toned?

She reached him at a full run, her lips crashing into his immediately. His hands were in her hair, and her arms were pulling him close, so close. She felt weeks of sadness and longing disappear because he was _here_ and she loved him so much it nearly consumed her, but she didn't care.


	27. spring

Ron followed Harry and Hermione off the train to where their families, accompanied by a few Order members, stood waiting for them. Ron wasn't quite ready to face his mum yet, not when he knew she'd immediately start pressing him for insight into why Fred and George left school so suddenly. Instead, he turned to Harry and Hermione, who were already walking towards Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Both of Hermione's parents' faces lit up when they saw Harry, and Ron didn't know why, but that bothered him.

Of course they wanted to talk to Harry, Ron thought bitterly. He was the Boy who Lived, and now there was all this "Chosen One" business. Ron was just the sidekick who was attacked by a brain, of all things.

"Ron!" Mrs. Granger called cheerfully, snapping Ron out of his self-deprecation session. "We've heard so much about you this year!"

"Mum!" Hermione exclaimed before Ron was able to process what her mom had said. Her eyes widened and her face turned pink. "Well, er, we should be going."

Ron watched in confusion as Hermione said goodbye to Ginny and his parents, her face turning brighter by the second. He hadn't seen her this flustered in quite some time, but at least normally he knew what caused it. Right now, he had no idea.

Hermione approached Ron and Harry last, giving Harry a hug first before moving on to Ron. Her arms twitched at first as if she was nervous about hugging him. When she did, it only lasted a second before she pulled away, chewing on her lip, and walked back to her parents.

As they were about to exit the platform, she turned back to Ron and Harry to smile weakly and wave, leaving an extremely confused Ron in her wake.


	28. summer

When she got the owl from Ron, she had to read the letter once, then twice, then a third time to be sure she wasn't mistaken. He had asked her to come to the Burrow a week earlier than they had planned on at the end of the year Which meant she'd be there a whole week without Harry. Just her and Ron.

And Ginny, of course, but that didn't seem quite as important. Ron wanted her to come by herself for a week. A whole week.

 _Maybe it doesn't mean anything,_ she told herself. Don't get your hopes up.

But she couldn't help it. She thought she'd gotten over her little crush from her pre-teen years, but ever since last year, she'd known that her feelings for Ron weren't just platonic. She suspected they hadn't been for some time, but she'd been trying to push them down.

She didn't know what exactly led to her realization about him, but she did know it wasn't just one moment. It was a collection of them. It was the way he offered to help her with Buckbeak's case back in their 3rd year, even though it would mean doing work _outside_ of class. It was the way he defended her and Harry time and time again. It was the way he used his role as a prefect for good: telling off older students picking on first and second years, warning students about Umbridge coming before she could yell at them herself. It was the way he was fiercely loyal to his family, sometimes to a fault. Above all, though, it was the way she felt _seen_ when she was with him. Sure, he often teased her for her interest in school and SPEW and just about everything else, but they both knew it was just a front. Underneath, he truly cared. He was always willing to sit around and listen to her talk for hours about whatever new interest she had, and he always asked loads of questions.

And now, for the first time, she thought maybe she had a chance with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second to last paragraph is my open letter to everyone who dislikes Ron


	29. whisper

"Talk to me, Ron," Hermione urged.

Ron had gone down to breakfast early for the fourth day straight. Given his love of sleep, Hermione was becoming awfully concerned. She would've thought things between him and Harry would've cleared up by now. They hadn't gone this long without talking probably ever.

"Just leave me alone, Hermione," Ron grumbled through a mouthful of eggs.

"Ron," she pleaded, grabbing his hand. That seemed to get his attention.

"Fine. But if you make me late. . ." he trailed off.

Hermione scoffed. "I promise I'll let you leave before Harry gets down here if that's what you're getting at. Just tell me what's going on with you."

Ron was silent for a long time. He wasn't eating either, so Hermione knew his mind must've been working overtime.

"I'm never good enough," Ron whispered, his voice so low that Hermione had to strain to hear him.

Hermione didn't reply. She knew there was more Ron wanted to say. More he'd been _afraid_ to say. Eventually, he continued.

"It's just, everyone in my family has a _thing_ , right? Bill is Bill. He was the firstborn. The one all of us had to live up to. He was Head Boy and now he's running all over Egypt being successful and everything. And then there's Charlie, who was so different from Bill, but in a good way. He was Quidditch captain, the best Seeker Gryffindor had seen in a long time. And I know Mum doesn't approve of his job, but he works with _dragons._ I mean, how cool is that? And then there's Percy, who's a git, of course, but he still managed to make Mum and Dad proud, being Head Boy and now with his fancy Ministry job. And everyone loves Fred and George because they're funny, but they're more than that, too. They haven't shown us anything but their joke wands, but I know they're working on something else, too. Something big. And Ginny, obviously, is the only girl out of six boys, which makes her more special than the rest of us put together. I don't have a _thing._ There's nothing about me that makes me stick out in my family, and as if that wasn't enough, now I have you and Harry to compare myself to. I mean, you're the smartest person I've ever met. Definitely smarter than Percy, and a whole lot more enjoyable to be around, too. And Harry. . . he has everything. He's good at Quidditch, Dumbledore loves him, he's the Boy who Lived, for god's sake. And now he has to try to win the Triwizard Tournament, too?"

Ron was slightly out of breath after his rant, looking surprised at himself for how much he shared, but also more. . . free than he'd looked in a while, having put his feelings out in the open.

"I've never really minded being in the shadows," he continued, his voice lower and softer again. "It's where I've been all my life. I'm used to it. But now, it just feels like this big joke. Like, how many times can we throw everyone but Ron into the spotlight before he snaps? I just feel so. . . worthless."

Hermione stared at Ron for a long time. Never before had she heard such raw vulnerability in his voice, and it killed her that he'd been feeling this way for so long and that he'd been pushing it down.

"Ron, you are _not_ worthless," Hermione said breathlessly. "You're loyal and kind and you care so much. Maybe that doesn't seem like a big deal to you, but it's a big deal to me. It's a big deal to _everyone._ "

Ron shrugged and his eyes seemed to glaze over. "Thanks for trying, but it's not worth the effort. I'll see you later. Harry just got here."

He stalked off, leaving Hermione at the table, tears pooling in her eyes as she realized that she didn't know how to make Ron see himself the way she saw him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot of feelings about this one okay?


	30. shout

Ron felt helpless. As he was forced down the stairs, all he could think, hear, feel, see, was Hermione. Her voice was still ringing throughout the manor and Ron felt as though he would crumble with each piercing scream. He and Harry were shoved into the cellar and the darkness only seemed to amplify Hermione's cries.

"HERMIONE!" Ron bellowed, knowing that it wouldn't help anything, but desperate to do _something._ "HERMIONE!"

"Be quiet!" Harry whispered. "Shut up, Ron, we need to work out a way—"

But Ron didn't care. He didn't care about plans, he didn't care about staying quiet, he didn't even care if they came down and killed him. All he cared about was Hermione.

"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!"

Only when Luna's voice broke out from the shadows did Ron's screaming cease momentarily. He was barely aware of what Harry and Luna were saying. Ron couldn't stop his shaking, couldn't stop the tears from spilling out of his eyes. He heard a bone-shattering scream from above, followed by a cackling laugh.

"HERMIONE!" Ron shouted, his voice breaking. "HERMIONE!"

Luna and Harry tried to break the ropes, but Ron wouldn't stand still. How could he? His entire body was vibrating from both fear and rage. An idea came to him, and he told Luna to grab the Deluminator from his pocket. It brought him to Hermione once, it could do it again, right? But no such luck.

"HERMIONE!"

Luna was able to use the light to get them free, however, and Ron immediately bolted around the cellar, looking for any way out. He tried Disapparating, though he knew it was pointless because he had no wand, but he didn't know what else to do.

Never in his life had he felt as helpless, as furious, as terrified. The cellar filled with Hermione's screams once again and Ron froze as he heard Bellatrix yell out the Cruciatus Curse, her voice dripping with glee. Ron collapsed on the wall, pounding his fists on the cold stone. Tears were streaming down his face and he felt as if they'd never stop.

Hermione's screams were growing louder and more pained, and Ron felt the noise cut through him.

"HERMIONE!" He yelled through his sobs. "HERMIONE!"

He thought he was going to lose her. Bellatrix was going to torture her until insanity, just like she'd done to countless others, and then Greyback was going to finish her off, and Ron would be stuck in this cellar, unable to do anything.

As he screamed her name and banged against the walls until his hands were nearly bleeding, he felt weighed down with regret. He'd never hold her again, never get to feel her kiss him as he'd imagined her doing so many times before, never get to tell her he loved her. 

He knew that's what this was now. He loved her. He likely had for a while, but that wouldn't matter if he couldn't get to him. 

The burden of his unspoken words almost crushed him. At that moment, he promised to himself that he'd say them a thousand times over if only she could make it through this. If only she could come back to him.

 _I love you,_ his heart screamed. _I love you, I love you. Please._


	31. cry

Ron was staring at the rippling sides of the tent as Harry's light snores drifted down from the top bunk. The pain in his shoulder hadn't yet subsided, but Hermione had stolen eggs and bread and Ron was feeling well-fed for the first time since they'd broken into the Ministry days ago.

He was thinking about his dad, hopeful that his part in the break-in wouldn't impact Mr. Weasley's job, when he heard a whimpering from across the room. He bolted upright in his bed, despite the twinge in his shoulder.

 _"Hermione,"_ he whispered, but she must've been sleeping because she didn't stir.

He laid back down hesitantly, still peering at Hermione's bed through the darkness. Moments later, he heard another cry, much more audible this time. Somehow, Harry hadn't woken up, and from what Ron could tell, neither had Hermione.

Swinging his legs around and gingerly lifting himself off the bed, Ron crossed the tent. He lowered himself onto Hermione's bed, brushing her hair off of her face, which was slicked with sweat. Her eyes flew open and she looked around wildly before she was able to make Ron's face out in the darkness. Her breath shaky, she sat up and ran her fingers through her hair. She collapsed into Ron as if he was the only thing keeping her upright.

"Hey, hey, I'm here. You're okay," Ron whispered, smoothing her hair down.

"I can't stop thinking about them," Hermione confessed after a moment, pulling herself away from Ron. "My parents," she said in response to the question on Ron's face. "I just. . . how am I supposed to know if they're okay? It's not like Muggle newspapers would report the deaths of an Australian couple, and what if You-Know-Who somehow found out who they are? Where they are? What if they die without knowing—"

A sob cut her off and Ron took her back into his arms without a word.

"What if they die without knowing they have a daughter?" she murmured into his chest.

"They won't," he said firmly, pulling Hermione closer and refusing to let go until he knew all her tears had been cried.


	32. laugh

Hermione was frantically flipping through pages in Mrs. Weasley's cookbook, trying to find _something_ to undo the disaster she had created in the kitchen.

"Need some help in here?" Ron asked, leaning with a playful grin against the kitchen door frame.

"Er, yeah, that'd be great."

With a quiet laugh, Ron flicked his wand, and all of the flour that Hermione had managed to sprinkle around the kitchen made it's way back into the large mixing bowl.

"Thanks," Hermione said, her smile a mix of appreciation and admiration. "How'd you learn how to do that so well? I've never been particularly good at household spells, but even I can tell that yours was basically perfect."

Ron turned a deep shade of red.

"You, er, you don't live with Molly Weasley for your entire life without mastering your basic cooking and cleaning charms," he replied bashfully.

"Well, I'm simply awful at them. I was supposed to be making a cake but now it looks more like soup than batter," she grumbled.

"Can I try something?" Ron asked hesitantly.

"Please do," Hermione pleaded.

Ron crossed the kitchen and peered into the mixing bowl. He cleared his throat, muttered something under his breath, and waved his wand in a circle over the bowl. The batter immediately thickened, something Hermione had tried and failed at doing countless times.

"Ron!" She exclaimed.

"What?" He asked nervously.

"That was incredible! You have to teach me!"

"Oh! Er, okay," stuttered Ron, who was clearly not used to being better than Hermione at any kind of spell.

"You just sort of wave your wand in a circle, like this, and then say _Misce._ It's pretty simple really. Nothing too impressive," he explained humbly.

Hermione copied his movements and whispered _"Misce."_

Almost immediately, the batter flung out of the bowl and splattered on every surface of the kitchen, including Ron and Hermione.

The pair looked at each other dripping in what would've been Harry's birthday cake and burst out laughing. Even when Mrs. Weasley walked in on the mess and ordered them to clean it without using magic, Hermione's laughs didn't stop.

An hour later, the kitchen was finally clean and the pain in Hermione's stomach from laughing so hard had finally subdued.

"I might need a bit more work on those household spells, yeah?" Hermione joked, turning to look at Ron standing next to her against the counter.

He was staring at her so intently, she was taken aback, and she felt heat rise up on her neck.

"You have a little-" he whispered, reaching his hand up to her face and running his thumb along her jaw.

"Got it," he murmured, pulling his hand back to reveal a trace of batter and wiping it on the kitchen towel.

He was still staring at her. Hermione's heart was pounding in her chest and she was finding it impossible to breathe. Ron reached his hand towards her again, this time tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. His hand lingered on her neck and he took a tentative step towards her.

Hermione felt her chest cave in. He was standing so close. Painfully close. Closer than he had ever been before. She looked up at his eyes. They were so blue. She had never noticed how blue they were. And he had so many freckles. Some were so tiny you couldn't have seen them unless you were inches from his face, which Hermione now was. He leaned down, his fingers still sending chills down Hermione's neck.

Suddenly, a loud _Pop!_ sounded from the sitting room, signaling Mr. Weasley's arrival home. Ron and Hermione jumped apart immediately.

Hermione's breath was still in her throat and her heart was pounding. She snuck a glance at Ron out of the corner of her eye and she saw a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.


	33. fire

After sitting through an incredibly tense dinner at the Burrow, Hermione wanted nothing more than to go straight home. Unfortunately, she knew her parents wouldn't approve of her asking them to drive all the way to Little Whinging when, just weeks ago, she'd practically begged them to let her spend the final night of break here.

Instead of following Ginny to her room, she decided to stay in the living room. She didn't think she'd be able to fall asleep any time soon, given the thoughts of the events—or lack thereof—at dinner bouncing around in her head.

Ron had barely spoken a word to her all night. He'd avoided eye contact all night, which Hermione was grateful for. At Hogwarts, it was easy to bury herself in her school work or hide out in her dormitory. At the Burrow, though, it was much more challenging to push down her feelings when everything reminded her of Ron.

From her chair right in front of the fireplace, Hermione stared into the flickering flames until her eyes grew tired. After some time, she jolted awake, feeling someone's eyes on her even as she slept. She jerked her head around and saw Ron sitting on the couch, looking right at her. She realized with a start that he had draped a blanket over her, and her heart softened slightly.

She tried to repress those feelings though, and just rolled her eyes. She turned her attention back to the fire, unsure if her eyes were burning from the light or from the threat of tears.

"I couldn't sleep," Ron piped up, offering an explanation Hermione hadn't asked for.

"We don't have to talk, Ron," Hermione said shortly.

"But—" Ron started before Hermione cut him off with a glare.

"Don't," she warned. "Please."

"Hermione," he protested.

"No, Ron. I can't do this with you," Hermione hissed, standing up abruptly and throwing the blanket at Ron. "I don't even know why I'm here," she whispered, mostly to herself.

She started to walk away from Ron, suddenly feeling as if there wasn't any air in the room when he reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"Why are _you_ mad?" he demanded. "If either of us is angry, it should be me."

"You?" Hermione glowered. "Please. Enlighten me. Why should _you_ be angry with _me?"_

"Krum!" Ron exclaimed as if that explained everything.

"I'm sorry, what?" Hermione asked indignantly.

"Ginny said you snogged him, and now you're writing to him? He's a creep, and way too old for you."

"This again?" Hermione fumed, her face turning red from both anger and mild embarrassment. "I'm not allowed to have friends, is that it? And so what if I snogged him? It was two years ago! Besides, whatever we did or didn't do would look like child's play next to you and Lavender. You can't go two minutes without putting your hands all over each other. It's revolting!"

"Since when does Lavender have anything to do with this?" Ron demanded.

Hermione scoffed. "She's always had something to do with this, Ron."

"Wait!" Ron called as Hermione turned on her heel and made her way to the stairs. "What does that mean?"

Hermione looked at him incredulously. Surely he couldn't be serious. "I shouldn't have come here. I'll see you back at school."

With that, she stomped up the stairs, ignoring Ron's look of bewilderment, and collapsed on her bed in Ginny's room, allowing her tears to fall silently.


	34. water

Ron flew high above the Burrow, not noticing the darkening clouds moving towards him. He was lost in his head, thinking about what he'd have to do the next night. As dangerous as it was, Ron knew he had to be there when the Aurors retrieved Harry. He knew he'd be relatively safe with Tonks, but that didn't stop his nerves from rising every time he thought about it.

By the time the lightning started, Ron was drenched. He finally acknowledged the conditions he was flying in and decided he should head back to the Burrow before his mom issued a search party. As he dropped lower, he heard someone faintly calling his name. Hermione.

"Ron!" she shrieked from the middle of the yard. "RON!"

Ron cursed to himself and dived to the ground, pushing his broom as fast as it would go. When he landed just feet from Hermione, she was already storming towards him, anger in her eyes.

"Don't DO that!" she fumed, jamming her finger into his chest.

"Bloody hell," he complained. "You sound like my mum."

"You'd better be glad it's me here instead of her. You were gone for _hours,_ Ron. I thought— _we_ thought something happened to you."

"I'm sorry," Ron protested. "I was thinking about tomorrow, and I got, I dunno, distracted."

Hermione's expression softened. "Just be more careful, okay."

Ron nodded and let his broom drag through the grass as he walked alongside Hermione back to the Burrow.

The ground was slick from the rain, and Hermione slipped on a patch of mud, almost falling to the ground before Ron caught her arm.

"Thanks," she breathed as Ron grabbed onto her other arm, steadying her.

She was standing so close, Ron could see the individual raindrops on her eyelashes. Ron felt as if all the air in his lungs had been forced out. He reached his hand up to her neck and ran his thumb along her jaw. She inhaled sharply and put her hand on Ron's chest. For a second, Ron thought she was going to bring her head up to his. Instead, she just rested her hand there and looked at the ground.

"We can't," she whispered, so soft Ron thought he had imagined it.

"Why?" he breathed, but he already knew the answer.

"We have to be there for Harry," she said softly, still not meeting Ron's eyes. "We can't let anything get in the way of our task. . . It's too important."

She bit her lip and Ron thought he saw a tear slide down her cheek, mixed in with the rain. She backed away from Ron, which was probably a good idea. He didn't know how to be this close to her. The rest of the way back to the Burrow, Ron trailed behind her, wishing more than ever that this war could be over.


	35. earth

"But, Mum! It's all muddy!" Ron whined.

"Then it'll be easier to pull them out of the ground. Go on now. Take Ginny and Hermione with you," she instructed.

The girls, who had been playing with Crookshanks in the sitting room groaned when they heard their names. De-gnomeing the garden wasn't fun on a normal day, and it would be worse when the gnomes were throwing mud at anything in sight.

"Well, come on then," Ron mumbled to them and they followed him outside.

Ron scrunched his nose as he pulled the first gnome out of a bush, it's arms swinging mud in every direction. Hermione and Ginny giggled as Ron's shirt was splashed with the muck.

"Well let's see how well you do it" he grumbled, spinning the gnome above his head with more force than usual.

"Ginny!" called Mrs. Weasley's desperate voice from the kitchen. "Come help Fleur and me with the laundry!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "The de-gnomeing doesn't look so bad now, does it?"

She stomped off to the kitchen, leaving Hermione in a fit of giggles and Ron looking in towards the kitchen with jealousy. He'd much rather be helping Fleur than spending quality time with the gnomes. Distractedly, he reached for another gnome and forgot to stretch it away from his face. It spun its arms around fiercely and Hermione clapped her hand to her mouth as dark sludge covered Ron's face, trying to contain herself.

Ron quickly released the gnome, which scampered off back into the ground.

"Yuck!" he cried, wiping the mud off his face.

Hermione couldn't hold her laughter in anymore, and she doubled over, gasping for air.

"You think that's funny, do you?" Ron asked playfully.

"Sorry, sorry," Hermione said, still clutching her stomach. "You look--"

She was cut off by a chunk of mud flying into her face. She wiped it away to see Ron's hand covered in the muck and a suspicious smile on his face.

"You!" she cried.

 _"You've got a bit of dirt on your nose,"_ he said in a high-pitched, girly voice. _"Did you know?"_

"You're going to pay for this, Ron Weasley," she warned with a devilish hint in her voice.

She scooped up a pile of mud and lobbed it straight at Ron, hitting him on the side of his face and dripping onto his shoulder. He looked at her with bright eyes, and Hermione shrieked with laughter as she dodged a lump of the muck.

Soon, half of the mud in the garden seemed to be on either Ron or Hermione, and their job to de-gnome the garden was all but forgotten. The air was filled with shrieks of laughter and Ron was surprised his mum hadn't come out to yell at them yet.

Hermione had scooped a great amount of mud into her hands and, in an effort to run away from her, Ron slipped and nearly slid into the pond. Hermione's twinkling laugh filled the air once again and she returned the mud back to the ground and collapsed next to Ron, breathless.

Ron turned to Hermione, a smile still bright on her face, more carefree than she had looked in months. He felt the cool earth under his hands and grinned back at her. She bit her lip, holding back another laugh.

"What?" he demanded.

"Nothing," she replied, shaking her head, an unfamiliar smile playing at her lips. "I'm just happy," she finished softly.

Ron felt his breath catch in his throat. Hermione looked back at the sky, a faint blush rising on her neck. Ron realized he was glad Ginny had been called inside to help Fleur instead of him; he'd much rather be here than anywhere else.


	36. air

"Are you sure you've never been on a plane before?" Hermione teased, trying—and failing—to hide her smile.

"You're asking if I've ever been on a Muggle death trap that flies without _any_ magic?" Ron asked, his knee bouncing and his hand clamped firmly on Hermione's. "What do you think?"

"Shh," Hermione chided. "Don't say the 'M' words so loudly. People are going to think we're crazy."

"Crazier than the people who willingly fly thousands of meters in the air at hundreds of kilometers an hour? Yeah right," Ron grumbled, his face turning whiter as they hit a stretch of turbulence.

"You didn't have to come," Hermione laughed.

Guilt washed over Ron. "I'm sorry. Here you are, supporting _me_ when the whole reason I'm going to Australia is to support _you,"_ he said, mentally cursing himself.

"Ron," Hermione murmured with a soft smile. "You've been excellent. Really. If it weren't for you, I probably wouldn't have even been able to get on the plane."

"I still don't understand why you're so worried," Ron confessed, lowering his voice. _"You_ were the one who did the spell, so it was obviously perfect."

Hermione sighed. "I appreciate that, but it's not as simple as just saying the counterspell and them just. . . remembering. They have to already be subconsciously fighting to remember me, and with how long it's been. . . they may have already given up."

"Hermione," Ron said forcefully, turning to face her as much as the plane seat would let him. "No one in their right mind would _ever_ give up on you. I'd rather, I don't know, hang out with Aragog's whole family than forget about you."

Hermione laughed in spite of herself. She lowered the armrest separating her from Ron and nestled against his chest.

"You're amazing," she whispered, closing her eyes. "You know that?"

Ron pressed a kiss to the top of her head and looked out the window at the clouds below them, but he wasn't nearly as scared as he was moments ago. The thought of what life would be like if he suddenly forgot Hermione scared him a whole lot more than the idea of falling out of a plane.


	37. morning

Ron stretched his arms and yawned, his eyes still heavy with sleep. He turned over and couldn't help a smile from breaking across his face when he saw Hermione lying there beside him. She'd slept over before, but this time was different. This time, she wasn't just sleeping at Ron's apartment, she was sleeping at _their_ apartment. The one they shared. Just the two of them. Together. Ron still couldn't believe it.

It was a Saturday morning, and Ron had nowhere to be, so he propped himself up and studied his sleeping girlfriend. He had never seen anything so beautiful. Her hair was messier than normal—Ron realized with a flush of pride that he was responsible for that—and perfect little wisps framed her face. She had a few freckles splayed across her face, and her lips were just barely parted.

Ron bit his lip as he realized that this girl—this gorgeous, talented, incredibly smart girl—was _his,_ and he swore to himself at that moment that she would never be anyone else's. The past year of his life had been something out of a fairy tale. Of course, Hermione being at Hogwarts for 9 of those months hadn't been ideal, but it just made their reunions that much more special.

And now, here she was. Laying in _their_ bed. Ron flopped back onto his side of the bed a bit more forcefully than he'd intended to. Hermione's eyes fluttered open, and she turned over to face Ron.

"Well, good morning to you, too," she said lightly, a smile playing at her lips.

"Sorry," he apologized, still gazing intently at her face. Her beautiful, beautiful face.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, laughing breathily.

"No reason," Ron smiled.

He folded his arms around her and kissed her lightly. She burrowed into his neck and sighed contentedly before turning herself around and pushing her back against Ron. His arms were still wrapped around her and her hair teased his bare chest.

"I'm never going to get tired of waking up next to you," he murmured, pulling her tighter to him.


	38. afternoon

She was back home. She was _finally_ back home. After months of being away from Ron, away from the Burrow, she was finally back. She'd seen him frequently enough while she was at school, of course. He'd always managed to find her in Hogsmeade when she went, and sometimes he snuck onto the grounds on "official Auror business." The past few weeks though, she hadn't seen him much at all. Between Hermione studying for NEWTs and Ron's intense training days at the Ministry, there had hardly been any overlap in their schedules.

Mrs. Weasley had planned a big dinner for her and Ginny's homecoming, and it was great—really—but it meant she couldn't get Ron alone at all that first night. The celebration had left her so exhausted that she'd fallen asleep the second she laid down.

Today, though, she had one perfect afternoon alone with him. Bill and Fleur had been at the Burrow in the morning to introduce Hermione and Ginny to their daughter, Victoire, who had been born just weeks before. Hermione had oohed and ahhed, but now she was just glad to be away from everything and everyone. Except for him.

They walked hand in hand down the street, catching each other up on everything from the past weeks and laughing at the various "funny Muggle inventions" they passed on every street. They finally settled down in a private area of the park for a picnic lunch that Ron said he packed, but Hermione had a suspicion that Mrs. Weasley had a bit more to do with it than him.

"Do you ever think about kids?" Ron asked in between eating two chips. "Because of Bill and Fleur, I mean. I hadn't really thought about kids until them. I think I'd just want one, though."

"I've always wanted a big family. Being an only child was pretty lonely growing up," Hermione said, looking at Ron strangely, though he didn't seem to notice.

"You really think we'll have time for a big family?" Ron asked, scrunching his eyebrows.

Hermione almost choked on her sandwich. "I'm sorry?" she sputtered.

"Well, you'll be busy with your big Ministry job, and I'll be doing my Auror thing. Will we really have time for a big family?" 

Hermione realized with a jolt that Ron wasn't just talking about his kids and her kids. He was talking about _their_ kids. She bit her lip, tears shining in her eyes.

"What?" Ron asked nervously. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No," Hermione replied breathlessly. "You said everything exactly right."

She leaned over to kiss him, and in a matter of seconds, their picnic lunch was all but forgotten.


	39. night

Hermione took a deep breath and knocked on the boys' dormitory. Almost immediately, Harry's bruised face greeted her with a sad smile. He opened the door to reveal a room that was much smaller than any of their previous dormitories. Ron sat on one of the beds that must've belonged to Neville or Seamus during the year. The air hung heavy in the room and the boys had shared expressions of grief etched across their faces.

"Sorry. I, er, I didn't want to be alone. Parvati's with Padma in the Ravenclaw tower and Lavender's. . ." she trailed off. As tears shone in her eyes, she fell silent.

"I don't want to be any trouble. I'll just bring a mattress from another room and sleep on the floor," she suggested once she had regained her composure.

"Here," Ron offered, jumping off the bed as if it burned it. "You can take my bed. I'll use the mattress."

Hermione gave him a small smile and flicked her wand. A mattress came floating in from the open door, and she lowered it down next to Ron's bed. She crawled under Ron's covers immediately, emotionally, mentally, and physically drained. Harry and Ron followed suit, flicking off the lights by their beds.

After a few hours of restless sleep, Hermione felt Bellatrix's breath hot on her face, her nails gripping into her face, her cackling laughs ringing in her ears. She jolted awake as her neck burned, and she let out a small cry. She kicked at the covers, feeling trapped, and turned to find Ron's face level with hers. He was sitting up on the mattress, looking at her with concern.

"You were crying," he explained. "When you were asleep. You were crying."

For the first time, Hermione felt the hot tears burning her cheeks. Deep down, she knew she was safe. She knew Bellatrix was dead and could never hurt her again, but the pain on her neck was real. The fear she was feeling was real.

"Can you. . . ?" she trailed off, her voice so low it was almost imperceptible.

Wordlessly, Ron pulled himself off the floor and climbed into the bed with Hermione, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He felt asleep almost instantly, but Hermione couldn't, regardless of how safe she felt in his arms. Every time Ron would let out a breath, the warm air would send shivers down Hermione's spine.

As she lay there, she knew that this was the place she wanted to stay for the rest of her life.


	40. regret

He saw her the second she arrived, and he had to pinch himself to stop staring. He couldn't help it. She looked. . . well, there weren't enough words in the English language to describe how she looked. Ron had never found her unattractive. In fact, he'd almost literally burned them both while thinking about the fact that she might not simply be not-unattractive, but actually quite pretty. Tonight, though, she looked stunning.

He was almost tempted to ditch Padma and offer Hermione his arm instead until he saw _him._ Viktor Krum. Her mystery date was Viktor Krum. And she seemed awfully proud of that with her little smile and shy waves at their classmates. When the doors opened to the Great Hall, he made a point not to look at her. She didn't get to walk in with Krum _and_ get the satisfaction of seeing Ron fawning over her.

That didn't mean he couldn't glare at her from across the dance floor, however. So that's what he did. All night. He ignored Padma hinting that he should ask her to dance, rolling her eyes, scowling at him. In fact, he was quite relieved when she went off to dance with that Beauxbatons boy because it allowed him to glower in peace.

That night, though, after his row with Hermione in the common room, he couldn't muster any more resentment at her or Krum, at least not for going to the ball together. Instead, he just turned her last words over and over in his mind.

_"You know what the solution is, don't you? Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!"_

At first, he hadn't understood what she meant. Why would he ask her to a ball? But then he'd realized she'd been right. I mean, of course she had. This was Hermione after all. And now, instead of the anger he'd wanted to feel, all he could feel was regret.


	41. forgiveness

Hermione sat with her eyes closed, listening to the gentle crashing of the waves, smelling the saltwater she had grown so fond of, feeling the softness of the sand under her hands and feet and the sun warming her face. She knew the mission was her first priority, but she couldn't help thinking that it wouldn't be _awful_ to stay here for a while.

"Can I sit?" a voice asked from above her.

Hermione squinted her eyes open to reveal Ron, standing with his hands in his pockets. She motioned for him to take a seat next to her. They sat in silence for a while. Hermione didn't think she'd ever seen Ron so quiet for so long.

"I, er, wanted to talk to you about something," Ron eventually said hesitantly.

Hermione looked at him but didn't say anything. Ron squirmed on the ground and stared right at the water. A pained expression came across his face.

"I don't really know how to start this," he continued. "So I guess I'll just, er, start talking and hope I get there eventually."

He took a deep breath. "I messed up. I know I did. And I don't know how you'll ever be able to trust me again because, what I did to you. . . it's the worst thing I've ever done. I know there's not any reason good enough for why I left, but you have to know it was because of the locket. We all knew it affected me more than you or Harry, and it kept telling me. . . well, it doesn't really matter what it was telling me. Point is, as soon as I got far enough away from it, I wanted to come back. I tried so hard to get back to you, and I just couldn't." Ron's voice cracked and Hermione saw tears pooling in his eyes. "I thought about you every single night. Every night I heard your voice asking me to come back, and all I could think about was how much I hurt you by leaving, and. . ."

He trailed off, clearing his throat and clenching his jaw. Hermione saw the sadness in his eyes, the hurt etched on his face, and she realized for the first time just how much his absence had affected _him._ She put her hand on top of his, and he just closed his eyes, his lip trembling.

"But you _did_ come back," Hermione said softly. "And not only that, but you saved me. In Malfoy Manor, you saved me. If it weren't for you, if I hadn't heard your voice. . . you made me strong, Ron."

"That doesn't make up for me leaving. For me not being there for you," he croaked.

"Ron," Hermione said with a fierceness in her voice that made Ron finally look at her. "You _came back._ That says more about you than the fact that you left. And I forgive you, okay? _I forgive you."_

Ron let out a shaky breath and squeezed Hermione's hand. She slid over in the sand and pressed herself against Ron. He immediately wrapped his arm around her, and Hermione felt a weight lift off of her chest. She leaned her head back into the crook between Ron's neck and shoulder, feeling like he was an extension of her. As they sat in silence, watching the sun fall behind the waves, Hermione allowed herself to forget about the war for the first time in a long time.


	42. happiness

There was nothing Hermione liked more than holidays at the Burrow. Paper decorations were hung across the ceilings and floating twinkling lights were spread out across the house. It smelled like cinnamon and pine, and Mrs. Weasley always had a batch of eggnog ready. Ron also had a habit of pulling Hermione into every corner, making mistletoe appear over their heads, and kissing her until she was breathless.

This year, however, was even better than most. This year, she wasn't just Ron's friend or Ron's girlfriend. She was Ron's _fiancée._ They sat together on the armchair closest to the fire, watching as their friends and family opened gift after gift. Hermione had already exchanged all of her gifts, so she was content to just snuggle against Ron's chest and enjoy the cheerful sounds from everyone else.

When it was time for Molly to hand out the Weasley sweaters, Hermione grinned at Ron. He groaned, but she knew he loved his mum's sweaters. Hermione had grown more affectionate of them over the years as well because, when she saw Ron wearing them around their apartment, she knew it was going to be a good day. They'd sit on the couch and cuddle all day—morning to night—watching movies, drinking hot chocolate, and forgetting about everything but each other.

When Mrs. Weasley made her way to their chair, she held out two packages. One to Ron, and one to. . . Hermione.

"For me?" she asked, staring at the bundle with shock.

"Well, of course," Mrs. Weasley confirmed. "You're one of us now."

She walked away, still handing out the gifts, and Hermione could do nothing but stare at hers. Her very own Weasley sweater. Ron poked her in the back affectionately. She turned back to smile at him.

"You know what this means," he teased. "You're stuck with us."

Hermione smiled even brighter, unwrapping the package excitedly. Her sweater was a beautiful shade of lilac, and she slipped it over her head immediately. The sleeves were a few inches too long, and she knew that when she stood up, the sweater would hang halfway to her knees, but she didn't mind. Ron wrapped his arms around her waist, and Hermione leaned into him, the idea of being one of them—one of the Weasleys—filling her with overwhelming joy.


	43. hope

Ron clicked the Deluminator aimlessly, light flooding then leaving the room instantaneously. He was huddled above the crackling radio, listening anxiously for any names he knew.

 _Ron,_ he heard a voice say, but it wasn't coming from the radio. _Ron,_ it whispered again.

Hermione. Surely she couldn't be here. He spun around the room, searching for her and finding nothing but his empty room.

 _Ron,_ he heard again.

The voice was coming from. . . his hand. The Deluminator. He clicked it and, instead of light filling the room, a faintly glowing orb appeared in front of him, reminding him of a Portkey.

He didn't know how he knew, but something told him that this light would lead him back to his friends. Back to Hermione. He quickly packed his rucksack and followed the light to the garden. It led him away from the pub, the light still shining brightly through the snow. The light stopped behind a shed. It bobbed for a few moments as Ron stepped closer to it, squinting at the intensity of it.

The ball drifted towards him, and Ron fought the urge to back away. It lightly touched his chest and he felt warmth flow through his entire body. Images flashed in front of his eyes, glowing in yellow light. Harry and Hermione laughing with Ron at the Burrow, Hermione laying in the garden with mud on her face, Hermione grinning after a flour-explosion in the kitchen, dancing with Hermione at Bill and Fleur's wedding, Hermione's sparkling eyes, Hermione's wild hair, Hermione's wide smile. 

He knew what he had to do. With thoughts of Hermione swirling around in his head and hope swelling in his heart, he turned on the spot. He knew the Deluminator would lead him back to her; back where he belonged.


	44. fear

"Did you settle for me?" Ron whispered.

"I'm sorry?" Hermione asked incredulously, lifting her head off his chest.

"Did you settle for me?" He repeated timidly.

"I heard what you said, I just don't understand," Hermione said, sitting up and looking down at him in disbelief.

Ron picked his head up off the pillow and propped himself up, staring straight at the ceiling.

"It's just. . . you're the most intelligent, talented, beautiful, strong person I've ever met, and I know you could have so much more than me if you wanted, so I just can't help feeling like you settled for me," he explained slowly, his voice shaking.

"Ron," Hermione murmured, her heart aching as she looked at him.

He had faced trolls, dragons, and the darkest wizards known to man, and yet she'd never seen so much fear on his face. He sat up and turned to look at her.

"Am I enough for you?" He asked softly.

She immediately took both of his hands in hers firmly. "Ron, you are the _best thing_ that has ever happened to me. I love you more than anything in this world. 

"Not enough?" A tear streamed down her face. "Ron, you're everything."

She wrapped her arms around him and clung to him, feeling his heart pounding against her cheek.

"It's you and me, okay?" Hermione said as if pleading with Ron. "Forever."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you catch the Office reference? ;)


	45. anger

He couldn't even cry. He was standing under the gloomy skies, staring at his brother being lowered into the ground, and he couldn't cry. He was just too goddamn angry. Angry at Voldemort; angry at Rookwood, for taking his brother away; angry at Fred for dying.

Across his row of seats, everyone was red-faced and teary-eyed. Everyone except for Ron. Hermione sat next to him, gripping his hand and sobbing into his shoulder, just like she'd done at Dumbledore's funeral just a year ago.

After the funeral was over, his mum came out with enough food to feed the entire group twice over, but Ron couldn't even enjoy it. People sat in the living room, sharing their favorite memories of Fred with sad smiles, but Ron felt like he was watching the whole scene rather than actually being a part of it. Like he was a spectator in his own life.

He was staring across the room so blankly that he didn't even realize Hermione tugging on his arm.

"Let's get out of here," she whispered.

Without really thinking—which seemed to be the theme of the day for Ron—he nodded and followed Hermione, his mind still miles away. She led him through the darkening yard out to a bench overlooking the garden and sat them down, flicking her wand to create a column of light to illuminate them.

They sat holding hands in silence until the sky was completely dark. Ron could still faintly hear the sounds of the people in the house, friends and family celebrating Fred's life, and felt something break inside of him.

Before long, Ron realized he was crying. Finally, finally, he was feeling something other than anger. He thought about Fred's laugh, his generally unwanted advice, his endless pranks.

Without saying anything, Hermione leaned her head into the crook between Ron's neck and shoulder. They cried together, mourning Fred and everyone else who had died to stop Voldemort. Ron knew that Hermione needed Ron as much as he'd needed her. She'd known exactly what he needed to finally feel something, and he was never more grateful for her than at that moment.


	46. love

_"I love you, Hermione."_

That's what he'd said. Four little words, and he hadn't even meant them _like that._

But. . . what if he had?

No. He was with Lavender.

And she'd made it quite clear during the year how she felt about him. Asking him to Slughorn's party, then attacking him with birds when she found out he was with someone else, which was definitely not her proudest moment, but the point was that she'd been extremely transparent. He clearly didn't feel the same way, or he would've said something by now.

But Hermione couldn't get those four little words out of her head. She realized as she lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, that she would've said it back. Had he meant it in that way, of course. She loved him. She knew it now. Seeing him with Lavender all these months had confirmed that fact.

God, she wished she didn't love him. It would be so much easier if she had fallen for Harry. They didn't bicker half as much as she and Ron did, and he was much less confusing, but she knew it couldn't be Harry.

Because it would never be anyone but Ron.


	47. doubt

Hermione was still staring at Ron in awe as they yanked the fangs out of the Basilisk's skeleton. She'd always known he was smarter than he gave himself credit for, but this. . . this was unlike anything he'd ever done.

"What?" Ron asked in confusion, catching Hermione off guard. "Do I have something on my face?"

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, glad that he had handed her an excuse for her staring. "You're, er, bleeding."

"Yeah, that'd be from the way down. Now, are you ready?"

It was Hermione's turn to be confused.

"Ready for what exactly?" she asked warily.

"To destroy the cup," he responded as if it should've been obvious.

"Why me? I don't—I can't. . ."

"Hermione," Ron said, grabbing her arm. "You can."

He stared deeply into Hermione's eyes, giving her strength. She took a shaky breath in and out, reached into the beaded bag secured in her sock, and pulled out the golden cup. Gripping the fang tightly, she knelt on the cold ground with her other hand holding the cup in place.

She swung the fang down with all her might, piercing the cup with a loud _pang_ and a shrieking scream. Hermione fell backward and pushed herself away from the cup, but a cloud of black smoke was speeding towards her. It rushed through her and Hermione felt as if she'd been thrown into a pool of ice water.

 _You'll never be good enough,_ sneered a voice from the smoke. _You don't belong in this world, filthy Mudblood. You'll never belong._

"I do," Hermione countered, her voice a shaky whisper.

_He doesn't love you. How could he? You're nobody. Nothing._

"I'm not. He does," she protested, pleading with herself.

_Does he? Then why did he leave you? He doesn't care. He'll never care about a Mudblood like you. You're worthless._

"I'm not," Hermione said in a whisper. Then again, more confidently. "I'm not."

She stumbled to her feet, the black cloud still surrounding her.

_He doesn't care. You mean nothing to him. He'll leave you again. Throw you away like the waste of magic you are._

"I'm not!" she shouted, her voice firm.

The cloud disappeared, sinking into the shadows, and Hermione collapsed. Ron was at her side immediately, his face more pale than usual.

"Hermione," he said frantically, shaking her roughly. "Hermione!"

"I'm okay," she assured him, sitting herself up. "We're losing time. We need to find Harry."

Ron nodded, extending his arm to help Hermione off the ground. She scooped the remaining fangs into her arms and mounted Ron's broomstick, holding herself against him tightly. As they made their way up through the tunnels, the words of the Horcrux were ringing in her head, doubt chilling her to the bone.

_You're worthless. He doesn't love you. You're nobody. He doesn't love you. Filthy Mudblood. He doesn't love you._


	48. trust

"Just trust me!" Hermione laughed, standing on her tip-toes behind Ron and covering his eyes with her hands.

"Why can't you just tell me?" Ron complained, impatient as always.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fine, you can look."

She removed her hands from behind Ron and he opened his eyes, revealing a spread of all Ron's favorite foods on the table.

"What's all this for?" he asked, looking around the room with wide eyes.

"You forgot?" Hermione asked, her face falling.

"No!" Ron exclaimed immediately. "No! Two whole years with you. . . how could I forget that? I just thought you had that big presentation at work tonight."

Hermione grinned. "I could say something romantic like you're more important than work—which is true—but the presentation just got pushed to tomorrow."

Ron chuckled and wrapped his arms around Hermione. He drew her closer, kissing her lightly.

"You're perfect," Ron murmured against her lips. "You know that, right?"

Hermione smiled and pulled him to the table. As they ate, Ron couldn't help marveling at Hermione. He couldn't believe he'd managed to not drive her away for two years. At times, he forgot it had been that long, but he also felt like he'd been with her all his life. When dinner was finally cleared, Ron was left feeling more full than he had in a long time.

Hermione tugged him away from the table and started pulling him into the living room, but Ron stopped her.

"Don't I get dessert first?"

Hermione frowned. "I knew I'd forgotten something."

"I’m sure you can find a way to make it up to me," Ron whispered, lacing his arms around Hermione's waist and pulling her against him.

Hermione rolled her eyes and hit him lightly. He just cocked his eyebrow. Hermione laughed and rolled her eyes again, but when he started dragging her to their bedroom, kissing her deeply and running his hands up and down her back, she didn't complain.


	49. alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this isn't canon, but just roll with it

"What are you doing?" Ron barked, his heart pounding, still hearing the whispering of the absent locket in his ear.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked in a small voice.

"Are you staying, or what?"

"I. . ." she glanced between Harry and Ron with anguish in her eyes. "Yes—yes, I'm staying. Ron, we said we'd go with Harry, we said we'd help—"

"I get it. You choose him," Ron snarled, anger and grief catching in his throat.

He stormed out of the tent as Hermione took down the shield charm in between them and ran after him.

"Ron, no—please—come back, come back!"

Ron could hear tears in her voice, but he knew she could've convinced him to stay if he turned around. He couldn't be there anymore. Couldn't sit around listening to Harry and Hermione whispering and laughing without him. Couldn't continue to feel worthless next to his two best friends.

"Ron, we need you. _I_ need you," Hermione cried, stopping Ron in his tracks.

He let the pouring rain wash over him as Hermione's pleading filled his head, battling with the hissing of the locket's words.

 _They'd be better off without you,_ the ghost of the locket whispered. _Leave them. You'll be doing them a favor. Go. Leave them._

And he did. Ron turned on the spot, hearing Hermione's screams still echoing in his ears, and landed outside a town they'd stayed at weeks before. He immediately felt his head clear, his chest release, his stomach unclench. It was as if the distance he'd put between himself and the Horcrux had finally forced it to release its control over Ron. He felt himself for the first time in weeks.

He knew he had to go back. Apologize to both of them. He knew they probably hated him right then. He hated himself. But he had to make things right.

He turned on the spot and landed on a riverbank on the outskirts of the forest he'd just come from. Spinning around anxiously, he realized he didn't know where the campsite was. He stumbled through the trees, shouting for Harry or Hermione. He knew he wouldn't be able to get past their enchantments, but he thought that if he could just yell loud enough, they might be able to find him.

After what felt like hours running aimlessly through the forest, Ron felt his stomach drop as he realized he was completely lost. He had no hope of finding them.

He sunk down against a tree with his head in his palms as hot tears ran down his face. He couldn't go back to his family, he sure as hell couldn't go back to Hogwarts, and he had no way of reaching Harry or Hermione.

Hermione.

He'd probably ruined any chance he'd had with her, and now he was completely and totally alone.


	50. together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last one :,)

Ron stood at the end of the aisle, his palms sweating and feeling slightly nauseated. His brothers and Harry stood to Ron's left, and Ginny, Luna, and three of Hermione's other friends stood to his right. Small orbs of yellow light floated along the walls, casting the entire hall in a golden glow. The orchestra began to swell, and all of Ron and Hermione's friends and family stood up and watched the entrance. The ushers pulled the doors apart, and Ron's knees almost gave out.

Hermione was. . . she looked. . . wow. Her hair was sleek and pulled into an intricate hairstyle, but pieces of hair couldn't be tamed and stuck out of the up-do in spirals. Ron thought it made her look even more beautiful. Her face was glowing as she walked down the aisle with her dad, her smile threatening to turn Ron's already-shaky legs into jelly.

When she made it to the altar, Ron looked into her eyes and thought he might melt right on the spot. Throughout the entire ceremony, he was unable to tear his eyes off her. Half the words the minister said sounded garbled, because to Ron, Hermione was the only thing in the room worth paying attention to.

"Ronald, your vows," the officiant finally said. Ron nodded and swallowed nervously, wiping his palms on his pants.

"When you said goodbye to me last night, you asked if I had finished my vows yet, and I said yes. You didn't believe me."

The crowd chuckled and Hermione let out a signature twinkling laugh as a single tear slid down her face.

"Truth is, I'd written and rewritten my vows so many times, I lost track. I mean, how do you fit a decade of history into a single speech? I kept asking myself. . . which of the thousands of moments with you do I include? Should I talk about how, when we first met, I thought you were incredibly annoying, but by the end of the year, you were one of my best friends? Or should I say that we fought every day of our third year, but you were still always by my side when I needed you most? Or should I talk about the fact that I tried to deny my feelings for you for years? Tried to pretend that it was normal for your brain to stop functioning when your best friend walked into a room or to blush every time you accidentally touched her hand or to smell her perfume in Amortentia."

Hermione bit her lip and let out a breathy laugh, her eyes gazing into Ron's with so much intensity, he didn't know how he'd be able to continue. But he took a deep breath and kept going.

"Hermione, you are my rock, my biggest supporter, my best friend, and the love of my life. I can't wait to spend every single day with you by my side."

Tears were rolling down Hermione's face steadily now, and she fanned at her face, her eyes and smile bright.

"I wish I had offered to say my vows first because there's no way I can top that," she said with a laugh, "but here goes.

"Ron, if you could see yourself the way I see you. . . you'd never want to look away. You are loyal and humble and compassionate and brave. You were the kind of boy who took on a troll to keep me safe. The kind of boy who was ready to attack someone with slugs to defend me. You became the kind of man who crashed through a chandelier to protect me. The kind of man who got over your fear of planes in a split second to comfort me. The kind of man who follows yellow balls of light just to get back to me."

She gestured to the glowing spheres around the room, and Ron's chest filled with warmth. He gazed down at Hermione, so much love in his heart, he didn't think he could contain it.

"Ron, you're everything I want and everything I need. You fill my life with adventure, and laughter, and so so much love. I'm yours. Forever."

Ron's eyes filled, and he waited patiently—actually, it wasn't patiently at all—for the officiator to get to the 'kiss the bride' part.

It finally came, and Ron leaned down to kiss his. . . wife. He could get used to saying that. He wrapped his arms around Hermione, holding her firmly against him, and kissed her as if no one else existed. He pulled away to the sound of his friends and family cheering, but they sounded like they were underwater. Everything but Hermione was blurred and out of focus. Ron didn't mind, though.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice so soft, only Hermione could hear it. Tears glinted in both of their eyes. "You and me, forever."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay y'all, if you got this far, THANK YOU! this was the first time I've written any type of fanfic for any fandom (after I read all seven HP books and watched all eight movies over a span of 10 days) so any feedback is appreciated! 
> 
> ALSO, if you're into SVTHSA/Love, Simon, check out my other works :))

**Author's Note:**

> This is also posted on Wattpad under the title You and Me, Forever


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